Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time
by espritduo
Summary: A massive prequel, spanning the entire history of the FFVI world. Book 2, The Goddess War, now in progress. The Warring Triad is free, and threaten to consume the world in their struggle for dominance. Maduin alone is free from their power, but what can one lone Esper do?
1. Pandora's Box, 'The Rock'

**Foreword:**

Now that I've finished the first book of the series, I thought it would be a good idea to explain where this story is going and what I am trying to do.

This is my attempt to fully flesh out the entire history of the Final Fantasy VI world from beginning to end. To that end, I am writing a series of books, each chronicling the major eras of the world. The first book, _The Beginning_, introduces the world before the birth of magic, over a thousand years before the events of FFVI. The second book, _The Goddess War_, follows the conflict between the Warring Triad that resulted in the creation of Espers and set the stage for the War of the Magi. Eventually the series will cover the War of the Magi in detail, and finally intersect with the actual story of FFVI, although not in the way you might expect.

I should also note that having any experience with Final Fantasy VI is not required to understand this story since it is a prequel. Knowing how the world eventually turns out will certainly help in catching references and predicting where certain plot threads may be headed, but I guarantee there are enough twists, turns, and surprises to leave fans and newcomers alike guessing how it will all turn out. Also, I will usually stick with the original SNES names for things, but if I like the Advance version's name better, I won't hesitate to use it instead.

I know the idea of a FFVI story with almost none of the FFVI characters may be off-putting, but I feel the rich history of the FFVI world is a story worth telling, and I hope to do it justice. If you agree, then you may find this lengthy tale quite interesting. And if you're very patient, the characters we all know and love will eventually join the fray. Any comments, criticisms, or suggestions are heartily welcome, even if it's just to point out a single typo or say a single word of encouragement. I try to update on a weekly basis, and so far, I have managed to keep to the schedule admirably. *crosses fingers*

Now then, enough expository banter! On with _The Sands of Time_!

* * *

~x~

_"Perhaps you've heard this story? Once, when people were pure and innocent, there was a box they were told never to open. But one man went and opened it anyway. He unleashed all the evils of the world: envy... greed... pride... violence... control... All that was left in the box was a single ray of light: Hope."_

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Pandora's Box**

_Where did this cycle of desire and destruction start? Nothing is left of the most ancient eras of history but fragments of pieces of myths. Some of them seem too fantastic to believe, others have been proven true, despite all my years of scientific training screaming "Impossible!". If nothing else, the great wars of the past should have been a clear warning to us. We took the warnings for granted in our lust to revive the knowledge and glory of another age, and suffered terribly for it. How could we have been so wrong? How many times have we humans searched for that which should never be found?_

_As penance for my sins, I must delve deeper into the mysteries of our world, go farther back than anyone has before...to the beginning, if there is such a thing. I must find out what set such a tragic chain of events into motion, and destroyed our world._

-From _Apologia_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, Year 1 After the Fall (AF)

* * *

**Part 1.1 - The Rock**

"Hey, Dune."

It was another dreary dust-filled day in the middle of a large desert. The sun was blazing a path across the clear midday sky, and nothing could be seen stirring as far as the sand and sun lasted. At first glance, this desert was just another sea of sand, with only the occasional island of rock upsetting the smooth motion of the sand dunes. There _was_ something different about this desert, though. This place was particularly unforgiving, and there was no trace of even the smallest hardy desert creature to be found. Not even a struggling blade of grass or stray cactus was willing to try and survive in this lifeless world. This land was dead. Most people would never come out this far into the scorching heat and blinding sands if they valued their life, but here amidst a small outcropping of wind-blasted sandstone two men were busy digging. Or more precisely, one was digging and one was watching impatiently.

"Dune!"

"Almost...got it...," the digging man said quietly to himself between swings of his pickaxe. He was tall and gaunt, almost to scarecrow proportions, and every visible part of his body was burnt to a golden brown. His face was covered in grime and stubble and his thick, almost unnaturally grey-white hair was tied in a ponytail beneath a wide brimmed hat which he wore to keep the sun out of his eyes. He had a pair of small spectacles resting precariously on his nose, which was entirely too small to support them. He breathed heavily with every stroke of his axe, the sweat streaming down his face. He looked every bit like someone who should be in a museum giving tours, not out in the middle of the desert swinging a pickaxe.

The pickaxe made an odd "clink" and the man immediately threw it aside and knelt down. He dug his fingers into the small crack in the rock he had exposed with his pickaxe, his archeologist's instinct driving him forward with a zeal unfitting of the bland surroundings. He knew, just knew, that something was here. He was completely oblivious to everything except the crack and what lay in store behind it. His mind ran in circles while his fingers carefully expanded the crack in the brittle sandstone. The possibilities were endless.

"Dune! Are you listening?"

There was nothing except him and the crack now. A few more centimeters and the crack would be wide enough to reach his hand into. The sweat was dripping from his brow and his mouth was painfully dry, but he kept both his hands working the crack. The thrill of the discovery had completely absorbed him.

"Dammit, Dune!"

"Just...a bit...more...ack!"

The crack blurred for a moment, and the man was suddenly aware once again of his surroundings, his thirst, and the unbearable heat. He was also aware of a throbbing pain in the back of his head. He wiped the sweat from the front of his head, and rubbed the pain from the back. The impatient man had given him a well-placed smack with a wooden leg. From the look on both men's faces, this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"You back with us now, Dune? I reckon it's time we get going."

Dune got up and gave a tired look to the impatient man. He was an old man with a black eye patch covering one eye, a startlingly bald head gleaming in the sunlight, and an impressive paunch heaving with frustration. With his wooden leg, he gave off the aura of a grizzled sea captain in almost every way. A sea captain in the middle of the desert? Nothing would have appeared more out of place here than this man.

"Yes, Captain, sorry about that. You know how I get carried away sometimes. But...if you could just give me a few more minutes, I'll be able to reach..."

Dune narrowly dodged another kick from the Captain's wooden leg.

"No! We've wasted enough time out here. I still have no idea why the Committee sent us out here in the first place. It's nothing but a barren wasteland. There's nothing here except sand and rock. Give me the sea and the salt any day!"

Dune gave the old Captain an inquisitive look and asked him something that had been eating away at his thoughts for a while. "I know why I'm here, at least. But why were you, Narsille's premiere marine biologist, assigned to accompany me?"

The Captain shot Dune a derisive glance. "Hmph, I guess they figured that there should be someone around who knows their ass from an anguiform in case you _do_ actually manage to find something here. Or have you forgotten?"

"Anguiform, sir?" Dune replied.

The Captain took this as an affirmation to Dune's ignorance. "That's what I thought. Some archeologist. This whole area used to be the bed of an ancient sea. The anguiform was a giant eel that used to inhabit this region. Blind as a bat, it was. Of course, if you managed to find the remains of one you'd probably think you'd found a sand worm! Gahahaha!"

The Captain laughed heartily at his jab at the archeologist, his paunch shaking with every guffaw.

"Some archeologist," he repeated after a moment.

Dune, seemingly unmoved by the Captain's barb, shifted his spectacles and replied, "Well, I suppose you _would_ know better than I on such matters. I am an archeologist primarily versed in the study of desert lifeforms, and this area is unfamiliar to me. I could easily differentiate an areneid from a coelecite at a hundred paces, but I am quite at a loss when it comes to aquatic lifeforms. If this was indeed a seabed long ago, then I am quite glad you are here."

The Captain shifted his gaze out over the horizon. Sand, sand as far as the eye could see. He grimaced.

"Damn straight!" was the Captain's only response. He obviously wasn't paying attention.


	2. Pandora's Box, 'The Storm'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Pandora's Box**

* * *

**Part 1.2 - The Storm**

Dune, aware of the Captain's sudden lack of interest, looked in the direction the Captain's attention had strayed to. What Dune saw was quite different than what the Captain saw, though. To Dune, there was a beautiful landscape spread out before him. Yes there was sand, but sand swept into intricate swirls and eddies by the wind, constantly appearing to undulate up and down due to the extreme heat's effect on the surrounding air. As always, he was mesmerized by the playful actions of the very phenomenon he was named after, and continued staring at the waves of sand, as if in a trance. Like the changing of a dream into a nightmare, though, something on the horizon shattered his vision of paradise. A vast spread of ominous looking black clouds were gathering on the very edge of the skyline, and threatened to consume all the surrounding land in darkness. Dune, being well aware of desert weather patterns, knew that this was not something that happens in the desert very often, and wondered what unlucky twist of fate had brought this unwelcome guest here at this inopportune moment. What was especially unsettling to Dune was the fact that his experience in such places had assured him that it had not rained here for many long years. Centuries as far as his trained eye could tell from the rock patterns. What could have caused this sudden change in clime? Dune tapped the Captain on the shoulder and pointed to the wall of black that was steadily approaching them from the east. The Captain nodded and continued to grimace, although he seemed strangely excited.

"Ha! Now this is more like it! A storm! A squall! Now this is an unexpected treat! A shame she had to come just as we were leaving, though. Nothing makes these old bones feel more alive than a good storm," the Captain said with a grim smile. "Well, let's get back to camp before she breaks," he added almost sadly, as if he would have preferred to stand his ground and test his own strength against nature's.

The Captain started walking at a brisk pace back toward their camp, which was some two hundred meters from the dig site in the opposite direction of the storm. He moved with surprising speed given his girth and age, not to mention his wooden leg, and Dune had trouble keeping up with him, sometimes falling behind as if an invisible force was pulling him back. His eyes constantly looked back to the crack, _his_ crack. He longed to penetrate its depths, to find something to make this venture worthwhile, to satiate his explorer's hunger. The Committee would be disappointed when he came back empty-handed. They had obviously expected him to find something here, although what made this desert so special to them was a mystery to Dune. He was only given the order to survey this area and to do so with minimal equipment and personnel. The Committee had apparently wanted to keep this trek as low key as possible. The mystery of what they had hoped he would find kept turning itself over in his mind. Suddenly, an idea struck Dune. The pickaxe! He had forgotten it in the hurry to get away from the storm! This was the perfect excuse to go back to the site and have one last look at the crack, without the Captain's wooden leg hanging over him.

"Sir! If you could wait a moment, please!" he called out to the Captain, who had put quite a distance between them while Dune mused over his plan.

"Hm? What are you doing lagging back there? Get up here and stop fooling around, or we'll never make it back to the camp before the storm hits." The Captain's paunch was heaving as he walked back to Dune.

"Captain, sir, if you could just wait a moment," Dune repeated with an acute awareness of the Captain's growing frustration. "I seem to have forgotten my pickaxe back at the rock. It will only take me a few minutes to run back and get it. Don't worry, the storm seems to be unusually calm for the time being, as if it were waiting for something. We should still be able to make it to the camp safely."

Sure enough, the wall of blackness had seemed to cease its tumultuous gathering of strength, and sat hanging above the eastern border, quietly brooding. It really did seem as if it were waiting for something to happen. What could have caused this sudden change? This storm was surely no ordinary storm. It almost seemed alive...

"Fine. Go get your precious pickaxe, but get your ass back here pronto! Five minutes, that's as long as I'll wait. After that, it's just you and the storm. It seems as if it is intent on waiting for you anyways. Never seen anything like it, on land or sea. Storms don't just stop once they get going...," the Captain said with an air of uncertainty and impatience. He never liked waiting, for men or for nature.

Dune sprinted back to the rock, aware of the strangeness of the idea of the storm waiting for him, as if it had read his mind and knew his plans and was waiting to see what course he took. He was having second thoughts about going back and inspecting the crack again. What if the storm and the crack were connected? Ridiculous. Absolutely unscientific. He dismissed the idea at once, ashamed he had ever thought it. Still, he felt something dark and wild weighing on his soul, as if the storm had transferred its life into his very being. With every step towards the rock he felt the inner storm's rage increase, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to move forward. Now he felt as if there was a second force pulling him back toward the Captain. His mind and body were trapped in a tug-of-war between the gods, and every moment he felt the strain grow in intensity. Surely this is all an illusion, a trick of a guilty conscience due to lying to the Captain perhaps? There is nothing here. Nothing in this desert. Nothing at all. With the unwavering clarity and certainty of mind only a man raised on logic and objectivity could possess, he pushed through the waves of chaos and disorder that were threatening to overtake him.

He had almost made it to the rock, when an explosion of thunder and roar of wind nearly threw him to the ground. That was no illusion. But where was the lightning? Surely such a noise could only have been caused by a lightning strike very close by. Dune had seen nothing though. He looked at the storm on the horizon, but noticed no change in its eerie vigil. "Heat thunder," he muttered to himself, only half believing it, but believing it enough to keep a clear head. Heat thunder is an atmospheric phenomenon, though, and doesn't nearly knock a man to the ground, his suppressed doubts whispered to him. He regained his balance and clarity of mind and continued toward the rock. He found his pickaxe lying by the rock where he had carelessly tossed it down earlier and lifted it, ready to take one final decisive swing at the accursed crack. Now was not the time for the careful picking of weak points with fingers. He felt the unbearable strain of the storm within him, and sensed the stirring of the outer storm as well. As if sensing his defiance to its will, the storm had started to move again, but slowly. It was silently swirling, twisting the tendrils of darkness around itself, as if it too was readying for one final strike. The air was painfully still, and Dune had trouble breathing as he raised his weapon. He would not let this darkness best him. _He_ was in control, not the storm. With a yell of defiance and frustration, he swung the axe down hard upon the crack and shattered its remaining borders. The crack was gone. He had won. He laughed, but caught himself and greedily reached his hand into the gaping maw of the beast he had slain. His fingers clutched something icily cold. Unnaturally cold. He let go for an instant in surprise, but he quickly grabbed it again and pulled. It seemed as if the very earth itself refused to give up this icy prize. The storm had not forgotten him, either. Steadily, silently it advanced towards him, its black tendrils increasing in size and intensity. It wouldn't be long before it was upon its prey. Unaware of the storm's increased activity, Dune pulled with all his might against the obstinate earth which denied him his treasure, ignoring the biting cold of the object in his hand. The earth groaned(or so Dune thought for an instant), and he was thrown onto his back, dazed, the hard-earned prize securely in his hand. At that moment, the floodgates were swung open with a vengeful howl, and the storm's fury was unleashed full upon its victim. Everything went black.

Almost immediately, Dune was brought back to his senses by the torrents of rain and hail that had fallen on him. He opened his eyes and realized that he could see nothing. A fierce flash of lightning lit up the desert for a moment, and he was aware of where he was and what was happening. The storm had broke. He quickly got up, and ran back toward where the Captain hopefully was still waiting. He had lost track of time during his fight with the elements, and was unsure if his five minutes were up or not. He knew the Captain was a man of his word, and would not wait for him a second after the allotted time had expired. What would the Captain think of this tempest that whirled viciously around him, though? He would probably envy Dune, perhaps even wait a bit longer to feel the awesome power of nature course through his tired veins once more. No, the Captain may be a bit eccentric, but he was no fool. This storm was too much for any sane man to grin and bear, and he must surely have made it to the camp by now. It was just Dune and the storm now. It had caught him in its jaws and was fully intent on tearing him to pieces. With this bitter realization, he braced himself against the wind and rain and moved forward as best he could. It was only two hundred meters, after all. He could make it in about two minutes if he put all his energy into the dash. A mad dash straight for the camp was his only hope, and he paused for a moment to gather what was left of his strength after the ordeal at the rock. He suddenly remembered the object that had caused all this chaos("ridiculous...unscientific...bad timing...that's all it is"), and gripped it tighter in his hand, which was now going numb from the cold. He guiltily stuffed the object into one of his shirt pockets, feeling a welcome relief from the unnatural cold. He leaned forward like a sprinter readying himself for the run, trying to focus all his mind and body into this flight from hell. As if to signal the start of the race, another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and a boom of thunder like a gunshot sent him running.

The rain and hail were now beating down on him without mercy, pelting him like frozen bullets, and he could taste the warm blood trickling down his face. The storm seemed to know his plans, again, and was not going to let him get away without a fight. One hundred meters. He was now nearly blinded by sleet, hail, and blood, but he kept the sprint going, heedless of the warning shots the storm was sending down around him. Fifty meters. The searchlights of the camp should be visible by now, assuming the Captain had turned them on, but there was nothing ahead of Dune except darkness and pain. He was afraid that the storm had ripped the camp from the ground and sent it flying far out of his reach, taunting him in his futility. At this thought, his hatred and defiance toward the storm increased, and he gained his second wind. He stumbled forward blindly, his mind and body ravaged by the storm, but he would not give in. He was closing in on what he had estimated to be the camp's location, but still could see nothing. The storm was tired of toying with its prey, though, and readied its weapon for the kill. Dune continued running madly forward, his scientific surety convincing him he would run into the immovable metal door of the camp at any moment. Of course the camp would still be there. No mere storm could lift it from its foundations of steel. If he could just make it to the door everything would be fine. One final warning shot from the storm revealed that Dune's estimations were correct. In that brief moment of brightness Dune could make out the tall, steel walls of camp, still standing in silent defiance to the storm. "Finally," Dune groaned piteously as the vision of safety faded back into the darkness. But the storm's wrath could wait no longer. A flash of horrible light was all Dune saw, and then he fell as if struck by a glistening blade of pure hatred. The storm had won. A continuous low rumbling of thunder could be heard as the storm dissipated, as if it was laughing at its triumph over this mere mortal who had dared to defy the will of the gods.


	3. Pandora's Box, 'Awakening'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Pandora's Box**

* * *

**Part 1.3 - Awakening**

"Hey, Dune!"

Dune slowly opened his eyes at the familiar gruffness of the Captain's voice. Everything was a blur without his spectacles, but he could just barely make out the large form of the Captain standing over him. His head throbbed, and his entire body felt as if he had been run over by a train. He couldn't move a muscle without an excruciating pain running through him. He attempted to get up, but fell flat on his back, panting. He made a motion for his glasses, and the Captain carefully set them on his face. He looked around at his surroundings. It looked like he was in the infirmary at the base camp. He was lying on a small white bed in the corner of a small white room with very little decoration save a few chairs and desks scattered about amongst the row of beds. At first it was difficult for him to see anything because of the blinding light positioned directly over his head. The light! He winced at the painful memory of the hate-filled lightning bolt that had struck him and left him for dead. How long had he been here? How did he get here? More importantly, how was he still alive after that terrible storm had had its way with him? These questions burned in Dune's mind, but for the moment he was too exhausted to ponder the answers. He closed his eyes again, already weary from this simple excursion back into the world of the living.

"Leaving us already, Dune? You're not going to get out of explaining what happened that easily!" the Captain said jestingly, a rare note of concern in his voice. "C'mon, get back here now!" He gave Dune a soft slap across the face to bring him around again.

Dune opened his eyes once more and stared at the Captain. The usual anger-worn creases in his face appeared to be somewhat softened, and his good eye seemed full of worry and red from lack of sleep. Dune was surprised at the change this made in the Captain's countenance. Before him was a tired old man, almost fatherly in his concern for this wounded comrade at his side. Dune couldn't help but attempt a painful laugh at the old man's startling, but pleasant change in appearance. He couldn't believe that this was the same man who had kicked him with a wooden leg on so many occasions.

"Eh, something funny, boy?" All semblances of kindness and concern instantly vanished from his face. He was the grizzled Captain once more. "Listen, what the _hell_ happened out there? I waited for you, longer than I should have I might add, and right as I was turning to head back to camp I heard a loud bang from the direction of the dig and the storm just came out of nowhere. And what a storm she was!" the Captain paused and smiled at the memory of it, almost like a past lover. "It was all I could do to high-tail it back to camp before she was beating on my doors. The strangest thing about the storm was that it seemed to just hang over the dig site for a bit before continuing west towards the camp. If I didn't know better, I'd say that storm had it in for you, Dune! You must have really pissed off someone up there!"

Dune remained silent. He felt a strong surge of guilt, but couldn't place its source. Combining his own terrible experience with the Captain's account, it had definitely seemed as if that lifeless mass of clouds was focusing all of its energy on him and him alone. His eyes shifted uneasily towards his shirt, which was hanging on a chair nearby along with his hat. Both of them seemed as battered as he was. The hat was tattered and full of holes, and the shirt was not much better, although the small pocket that held his precious discovery remained sealed and undisturbed. Large reddish-brown stains covered both the shirt and hat, and Dune couldn't help looking at himself to see just what this storm had done to him. He moved his head forward as best he could to get a better view of his body, but could see nothing but bandages draped over his chest, arms and legs. He felt a sharp pain in his neck and quickly laid his head back down onto the pillow.

"Ah, yes. You are lucky to be alive, you know that?" the Captain said with a dual note of concern and scorn. "If I hadn't seen you when I did, you'd be nothing but carrion for the vultures by now, if there were any vultures or anything else living in this deathtrap of a desert, that is."

"T..thank..you, Captain," Dune managed to squeeze out of his painfully dry mouth. At that moment he would have given anything for something, anything to drink. Sensing his thirst, the Captain walked over to a small white sink and poured Dune a glass of water. He put the glass to Dune's lips and he greedily let the revitalizing water flow unceasingly past his swollen tongue. He felt the cool liquid course through his chest, and felt his strength slowly coming back.

"Don't thank me, thank yourself. If you hadn't lit up like a beacon the way you did when you were hit, I would never have been able to see you. That damn storm really had a mind of its own, you know that? No sooner had I turned the searchlight on, than a bolt of lightning struck the watchtower and shattered the light to pieces. Never seen anything like it..." the Captain trailed off and became silent, pondering the strange events that had happened.

"How...long...?" Dune struggled with the words.

"Almost two days. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever get up, but the doctor assured me that aside from the wounds from the hailstones, you were perfectly alright. You really are one lucky fool to be struck by a bolt like that and not receive any major injuries." the Captain rubbed his bald head in disbelief. "Now, I want to hear _exactly_ what happened to you out there," he finished solemnly.

Dune slowly related everything that had happened from the time he left the Captain right up to the gates of the camp. The whole sequence of events couldn't have taken more than ten minutes, but it felt as if it were an eternity to Dune as he retraced his steps. He kept the part about finding the strangely cold object and his inner struggles concealed, however. Something inside him pushed him to secrecy regarding the mysterious discovery, as if it still wanted to remain hidden from the world at all costs. Dune had not forgotten it, though, and longed to see it. In all the chaos and darkness, he had never once actually looked at what he had found. All he knew of it was the freezing aura it exuded. The object's extreme cold numbed his senses and kept his fingers from discerning its shape and texture. What could possibly be the cause behind the object's unnaturally low temperature? Dune's mind continued to race, and he soon wanted nothing more than for the Captain to leave the room so he could get a glimpse at his treasure, without any prying eyes. Its hold over him had not weakened in the least over the last two days. He pretended to close his eyes as if he were extremely fatigued from the talking, hoping the Captain would get the message.

The Captain, playing into Dune's ruse, got up and prepared to leave the room. "Aye, I can see that you still need to get some rest. Well, I've heard what I needed to hear, so get some sleep while you can. I'll give the order to get a move on back to Narsille tomorrow, although I don't think the Committee's going to be too pleased to hear we came back empty-handed. This expedition sure was a bust, eh?" The Captain shook his head in disappointment and quietly left the room, his wooden leg echoing off the hard floor with each sullen step.

The Captain was a man of the sea in heart, but still a man of science in mind. He too was curious about the Committee's purpose for this dig, and was dismayed that nothing was found. He and Dune had spent the better part of a week surveying this desert, and could find no trace of anything that could be considered of any scientific value. Despite Dune's unwavering fervor at each new rock formation spotted, the Captain grew weary and increasingly irate with the lack of even the most trivial of findings. The Captain knew the history of the desert reasonably well, but the question of why it was so devoid of life still remained unanswered to him. He knew it was the bottom of a large sea eons ago from geological samples taken by other brave souls who had dared to enter this wasteland before him, but how it had arrived at its current state was wholly a mystery. There were in fact only two distinct strata to the rocks scattered on and below the desert. Due to the extreme lack of any form of climatic disturbances over the many long years, the rocks just below the surface of the sand were the very same rocks that had once sat at the bottom of the sea, making geological analysis very easy. One stratum was filled with now extinct aquatic lifeforms and the tell-tale sediments of a seabed, and the very next was dead, devoid of all traces of the former environment. Not even the tell-tale thin line of rare metals, indicative of a collision with a body from space, was present between the two. Nor was there the line of sulphur and ash that would have suggested a volcanic eruption. For all intents and purposes, this place had one day been a thriving sea full of life, and the next a barren land full of nothing but death. It was this mystery that the Captain had secretly hoped to solve on this expedition, even if the true purpose was of a different nature. The Captain always was a man of his own devices, and even if the Committee had told him exactly what he was supposed to be doing here, he would have delegated the main task to Dune and carried out his own fancies in his own way, only lending a hand when necessary. But his hopes were for naught, and after a week of exploring the region, he knew that he alone would not be the one to solve this riddle.

He sighed at this frustrating turn of events as he walked down the corridor outside the infirmary and down the stairs to his own lodgings. It had been a hard two days for him as he watched over Dune, and he had not slept at all. He reached the door to his room and slowly turned the handle. Just as his hand touched the handle he felt a strange chill for a moment, and looked over his shoulder back towards the stairs, but saw nothing. He shook off the feeling and continued into the room. It was not much different than the infirmary in appearance; white walls and a white floor, with little more than a bed, a few chairs and a desk to fill the space. He walked over to the bed and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of the open sea that he longed to return to.

Back at the infirmary, Dune had been busy trying to push himself over to the edge of the bed so that he could reach his shirt which was hanging off of a nearby chair. This was no easy task, and Dune fell back onto the bed more than once out of pain and lack of strength. But his desire to see what he had suffered so much to get wouldn't let him rest. With one last painful turn he managed to roll himself over and he reached out his hand towards his shirt. He groped around for a second, his fingers barely able to touch the cloth. He slowly searched for a safe piece to grab onto. The last thing he wanted to do was to drop the shirt on the floor, rendering it utterly beyond his current reach. He firmly clutched a suitable corner of the shirt and dragged it over to the bed with some effort. He did his best to sit up so as to properly examine the shirt. It was nearly impossible to tell that this had indeed once been a shirt. It was so torn and full of holes and dried blood that it looked like nothing more than a dirty rag. He scanned over the extremely weather-beaten shirt with his eyes and fingers, searching for the hidden pocket that contained the unknown object. It didn't take long to find, due to the objects peculiar coldness, which still slightly emanated through the flimsy material. His anticipation growing, he slowly reached into the pocket and pulled out the object, casting his scrutinizing gaze on it for the first time. He had to handle it using the shirt as a sort of glove, since it was too cold to hold directly for any length of time. What he saw did not shed any more light onto the object's unusual properties, and only raised more questions.

It looked like something that was not made by nature, and yet not by the hand of man, either. The object was shaped like two tetrahedrons connected at the base, with six identical faces all as smooth as fine glass, but much harder, like a diamond. Unlike a diamond, though, it was pitch black, and didn't reflect even the smallest amount of light, making it difficult to discern its true shape at times. Even stranger, it didn't appear to weigh anything at all. Dune could feel its coldness and the sharpness of its edges, but did not sense any pressure from its weight. For a moment, Dune got the impression that he was in fact not holding matter at all, but a _lack_ of matter, as if in his hands was a piece of the very fabric of the cold emptiness of space. He shuddered at the profundity of this thought, and suddenly felt a strange chill run down his spine. He felt as if someone or something had become aware of him the moment he looked at the object. He glanced at the door and quickly put the object back into his shirt pocket and placed the shirt back on the chair as best he could. Just handling this object had drained him of what little strength he had left, and he decided that it would be best if he really did get some rest before tomorrow's journey. He passed into an uneasy sleep full of visions of the harrowing experience from two days ago.


	4. Pandora's Box, 'The Master of Earth'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Pandora's Box**

* * *

**Part 1.4 - The Master of Earth**

"Dune."

Dune opened his eyes at the sound of his name, expecting to see the Captain once more, but he was totally unprepared for the sight that awaited him. He was standing outside in the middle of the desert, right in the heart of the storm at the height of its fury! He staggered for a second at this change of scenery, all the old feelings of dread coming back to him. Around him the storm was raging and furiously beating the ground with rain and hail. _Only_ around him, though, was the storm raging. The drops of rain and hailstones seemed to ignore him, and the lightning casually skirted him by mere meters, but he felt nothing at all. The air around him was perfectly still and dry. A strange silence pervaded the landscape as well, completely separating Dune from the struggles of the storm. _What_ was going on?

"Give it back, Dune." A deep, rumbling voice commanded him.

Dune peered through the sheets of rain for the source of this voice, but could see nothing but the storm. He feebly answered, "Wh, who are you?"

A low growl resonated from the ground, and Dune leaped back in surprise. Then came the reply.

"I am the world that you see, and the world you do not see. I am part of the thoughts you accept, and part of the thoughts you refuse. I am the plains, the hills, and the mountains. I am the ground beneath your feet that you have devoted your life to. I am the Master of Earth. You have taken that which was not yours to take. Give it back, or face the wrath of the Earth!"

Dune was struck speechless. The Master of Earth? What was this nonsense? He needed more than this. Boldly, or so Dune thought, he stood his ground, determined to get more answers out of this mysterious presence. He yelled out into the silent storm defiantly, "Give what back? What have I taken, and what is its importance to you? Why am I out here, and _who_ are you?"

The ground shook more ferociously, nearly knocking Dune over. "Impudent mortal! The gravity crystal in your shirt! Return it to its rightful place! Now!" The shaking of the ground softened for a moment, like a subsiding anger, and the earthen voice continued, with a note of forced calmness and politeness, "The crystal is of no use to creatures such as yourself. It was my burden and mine alone to care for it, and you will return it to me. The choice is a simple one. Comply or perish in the bowels of the earth." As if to drive this last point home, the ground beneath Dune suddenly jerked upwards, flinging him into the air. The ground was silent once more, awaiting Dune's response.

Dune got back up and shook the dust off of him. He still instinctively peered into the surreal stormscape hoping to catch a glimpse of his aggressor, but could see nothing of substance. Just a mute world of storm and sand in every direction. He was visibly shaken now, but tried to hold out for as much information as this being would give him. "Gravity crystal? What is its purpose? How was it formed? What right do you have to it? I found it, and I nearly died for it. It is as much mine as yours." His insurmountable curiosity and lust towards the crystal could not be extinguished with something as trifling as an improbable death threat from a hidden foe of unknown power. He was playing a dangerous game, but he could never have guessed how highly the cards were stacked against him.

Expecting another upheaval, Dune braced himself. The ground simply hummed, though, the sand slightly vibrating at his feet. "Fool. It has taken you, like so many others. Listen to my words, or you will suffer a fate worse than what I can give you. Cast the crystal into the deepest abyss you can find. Forget it. Forget its cold touch and its empty gaze. You do not understand-nay, you refuse to understand what you have found. It will do you no good to keep it. I will tell you once more: Give it back."

If there was anything that could have persuaded Dune in his present state to the rash words he was about to speak, insulting his ability as a scientist was it. How dare this coward claim that this artifact was beyond his understanding? How dare he claimed that it had any power over his clarity of thought? The crystal was his, now and forever.

"Ha! No, it is mine! I will take it and keep it from you for as long as I live. Do what you will, O Master of Earth!" He finished with a mocking tone that was most unbecoming of him. The crystal _had_ imperceptibly taken hold over Dune. Never would the old Dune have been so offended by such remarks, but this new Dune was different, brasher, more headstrong, and headed for disaster.

The voice rose from the ground, slowly growing more intense with each word, building up towards a final release, "You are lost to the power of the crystal. The time of truth will come soon enough, and you will see what you have become. Only then will you have a chance to save yourself. Now! I ask you one last time, give the crystal to me or suffering is all you will receive as reward for your foolishness!" The ground was now shaking with a constant force, and Dune was having trouble standing against it.

"Never!" was Dune's only reply. A foolish one.

"Then begone from my presence!" With that the ground shook with a force that Dune had no power to resist. He was thrown to the ground like a doll, fully subject to the wrath of the Master of Earth. The earth groaned horribly, and with a resounding crack, a huge fissure opened up beneath the helplessly flailing Dune. He fell into it with his face still looking up at the storm that would not pay him any heed even now. Falling, falling, the darkness around him grew, and then with a final rumbling the fissure snapped shut. Dune saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt nothing. He closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable impact.

"You have been warned."

Dune shot up from the bed, beads of sweat racing down his face. He gasped for breath for a moment, and then weakly uttered "...only a dream..." He started, and breathed a grateful sigh of relief. He was back in the infirmary, and the ground was quite motionless. For the time being his physical pain had been overshadowed by the lingering emotion from the dream, and he was fully erect, slowly taking in the whiteness around him, as if to confirm he was really back in the safety of the camp's infirmary. Had it all really been a dream? It had seemed much more real than any dream he had experienced before. He thought back to the impossible scenes he had just been witness to, and his scientific mind assured him that what he had seen could only have been a dream, a hallucination brought on by the recent events he had endured and his weak physical condition. "It was only a dream..." he repeated to himself, solidifying this statement as truth in his mind.


	5. Pandora's Box, 'Visions of Mae'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Pandora's Box**

* * *

**Part 1.5 - Visions of Mae**

Dune looked at a small clock sitting on the desk in the corner. It was already morning, and soon they would be on their way home, to Narsille. He couldn't wait to get out of this foul desert that had tormented him so and back to the peaceful luxuries of his apartment and the arms of his wife. He now strongly wished to see her again, knowing her presence would help ease his troubled mind more than anything the doctor or the Captain could provide. He vividly tried to remember the last time he had seen her, almost a month ago. The scene materialized before him, as if he had just closed the door to his apartment. He had just gotten the call from the Committee about his next job, and his wife wasn't happy. Even in her anger, he always found her beauty captivating, making any debate a short lived one, and almost always in her favor. When it came to Dune's job, however, his usual submissive nature disappeared. This was one topic he always stood fast on, and she had never been able to stop him from doing what he loved yet.

"But why do you have to go so soon? You just came home from the last dig only two months ago!"

"You know how it works, Mae. Whenever the Committee calls, I have to leave as soon as possible. Setting up a dig takes a lot of preparation, and from the sound of things, this is an unusual dig. That means an unusual amount of prep time. I'll probably be gone for at least a month. I'm sorry, but that is the life I lead as a scientist. You knew that when you married me." Dune shifted his glasses, a sure and subtle sign that he was uncomfortable with the current conversation and wished it over and done with.

Mae turned her back quickly to Dune, her long black hair turning elegantly with her, and quietly retorted, "You know I love you Dune, but sometimes I really wonder if you love playing in the sand more than being with me." She raised her voice, making sure Dune heard what she had to say, "Why can't you just say 'no', just once? For me?"

"I'm sorry, Mae, but it just doesn't work that way. I can't decline a request from the Committee unless it is an extreme emergency, and only with proper documentation even then. They are a very powerful organization within the Narsille government, and one does not just 'say no' when they call. It would be the end of my job if I did that."

"Well then maybe you _should _quit, then. I don't want it to come to this, but it's getting to the point now where you're going to have to make the choice: your job or your wife." Mae was on the verge of tears now, her clear blue eyes trembling.

Dune couldn't see her eyes, but he knew the way this conversation went from tireless repetition. He knew the pain he caused her when he had to leave, but he had no choice. This was the path he had chosen to lead since he was a child, and there was nothing that could change its course now. Some things you just have to do to be happy with your life. Dune was a slave to his fate. He shifted his glasses again, but said nothing.

"Fine! Leave then! Just remember that one of these days when you come back I might not be here waiting for you," Mae's thin form was shaking now, her voice wavering against her best efforts to remain in control.

That was Dune's cue. He walked over to Mae, her back still turned to him, and put both his arms around her shoulders and held her close to him, quietly speaking into her ear, "Mae, dear, you know I love you. You need to remain strong, and know that I think of you constantly when I am away. You are my strength when I am away, and you are the reason I come back," he paused, gathering strength for his next words, "You need to realize that this is who I am, and is what I have been destined to do since I was born. If I couldn't dig, I would never be fully happy again, even in your arms. Is that what you want? It is my release, the reason I am able to be who I am. If I were to quit, I would fall into an irreparable depression. Is that what you want? I would not be the man you married if I lost the ability to do what I love. Please understand my decision, and promise me you will be here when I return."

His words had hit their mark, and Mae reluctantly replied after a few moments, "I will be here, one more time, for you Dune. Go and fulfill your destiny, if that is what you must do. I hate it, but as long as you promise to return, I'll promise to be here."

"I swear on my life that I will return here, for you, Mae." He slowly turned her around and looked at her now tear-filled eyes. She was beautiful, in happiness, anger, or sadness. Those eyes always were the most difficult thing to let go of when he left, but go he must, and the Committee would not look kindly on him being late. He stared into her eyes for a few more moments, burning this last final memory into his mind for the long nights he would soon endure without her, then gently kissed her on her forehead and let go of her to leave.

"Take care of yourself while I'm away, Mae. Know that I think of you, and that I love you, and everything will be fine. Good-bye."

"Good-bye Dune. I love you." Mae attempted a weak smile, and playfully pushed up Dune's falling glasses. She turned from him once more, unwilling to see him actually leave.

Dune understood and left without another word, quietly closing the door to the apartment. His destiny was calling him once more, and with the worst over, he was ready to answer the call without any regrets.


	6. Pandora's Box, 'Figaro on the Move'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Pandora's Box**

* * *

**Part 1.6 - Figaro On the Move**

Back in the infirmary, Dune recalled Mae's gaze fondly and for the moment his mind and body were eased as he thought about seeing her once more. His quiet reminiscing was abruptly disturbed by the door suddenly swinging open and the doctor walking in to do his daily check up. The doctor was a tall, tan man with a pair of glasses resting on his forehead, and short well-kept grey hair. His appearance belied his relatively young age, much like Dune and his own grey-white hair and gaunt appearance. In appearance he was indeed very similar to Dune, but his personality was as far from Dune's as could be imagined. He always seemed in a rush and in a bad mood, and his bed-side manner left much to be desired. He _was_ exceptionally good at what he did, though, and thoroughly enjoyed being a doctor and having the power of life and death over his patients. In regards to his job then, he and Dune were also the same in a twisted sort of way. Ever since Dune had been recovered from the storm the doctor has been in high spirits, most likely owing to him finally having something more than scrapes and sunburns to deal with.

"Aha! I see my miracle patient is back with us! You know, Dune, based on everything I've experienced with lightning strikes, you really should be quite dead right now. How do you feel?" The doctor said with a twisted sort of relish, as if he was hoping to hear Dune complain.

"I'm feeling much better now, Doctor Atma. Thank-you for tending my wounds, it couldn't have been an easy task. I apologize for my rashness back in the desert. I should have been more careful." Dune said this with some effort, although the words came much easier now than the night before.

The doctor looked at him and smiled his thin, cruel smile. "No worries, Dune! It was my pleasure. Although I'm afraid it wasn't as much work as I had hoped. Your wounds are healing faster than expected, and you should be fit for active duty by the time we reach Narsille. Hm, well at least you gave me one good bit of practice on this bore of a trip. Sometimes I wish I had enlisted as a military doctor instead...war is always good at providing ample practice for people like me." he looked up and his smile widened, then turned into a tight-lipped frown and he added, "Not like there are any wars anymore, thanks to that blasted Committee. There's just something not quite right about a civilization with no war, no poverty, no crime. Utopia means 'nowhere' for a reason, you know." He continued grumbling and frowning as he looked over Dune and replaced his bandages. Dune didn't dare interrupt the doctor during his rants against the Committee, not when he was the one who ultimately determined Dune's well-being. The doctor had just finished dressing Dune's bandages when a voice, the Captain's, was heard over the intercom.

"All hands, this is the Captain. We will be leaving the Thanas Desert shortly and returning to Narsille. Make the usual adjustments and prepare for departure in half an hour. Over and out!" There was a moment of silence, and then the Captain added, "Oh, and would Dune report to the bridge as soon as possible. I think there's something you should see up here..." The intercom went silent again.

Dune glanced at the doctor questioningly and wondered what it was the Captain wanted to show him.

"Don't ask me. I'm just the doctor on board, I don't pay attention to what goes on up there," the doctor apathetically pointed to the ceiling, where three floors above the Captain was waiting, most likely impatiently. "I'd better escort you, though. You are in no condition to be walking around by yourself. That brash 'Captain' of yours probably didn't even think of that. I don't know who he thinks he is here; just because he wants us to call him Captain doesn't mean he actually is the one in charge around here. You have as much pull on this vessel as he does, you know that, right?" He looked at Dune, a mutinous glare in his eyes. The doctor liked the Captain about as much as he liked the Committee.

"That's alright Doctor. I don't mind how the Captain runs things. He's much better suited for commanding the Figaro than I am, anyways. I've never been much of a leader, and I really wouldn't know the first thing about commanding a vessel such as this. We'd better get going or he won't be too happy when we get there. You know how the Captain is."

"Yes, I know all too well how the Captain _is_," the doctor spat the last word out like poison. "You are entirely too easy-going, you know that Dune? You should stick up for yourself sometimes, show some grit." He sighed, thinking about the unpleasant task ahead of him. "Well...I guess we should get going, then. Wouldn't want to upset the 'Captain'. Here, get in this." He pulled out a collapsible wheelchair from under Dune's bed and unfolded it, motioning for Dune to try and get up. He had to almost lift Dune into it, but after some struggling Dune was sitting in the chair, and they were ready to leave. As they were leaving the room, Dune jerked his head back towards the remains of his shirt still sitting untouched on the chair. He remembered the dream and its message, and couldn't help but feel another strange chill run down his spine.

"Eh, something the matter Dune?" The doctor was suddenly drawn from his sour mood, and looked at Dune eagerly, hoping for a sudden relapse of some kind.

"N, no...I'm fine doctor. Please continue." Dune said apprehensively, something weighing on his mind, urging him not to leave the room.

"Well if there's anything wrong, anything at all, don't be afraid to tell me..." the doctor said in a sickeningly sweet tone. He resumed pushing Dune out of the door and down the corridor towards the stairs. Directly to the right of the stairwell was a lift, used for moving large objects easily between floors. The doctor pushed Dune onto the lift and pressed the button for the bridge. With a slight creaking sound the lift slowly proceeded to rise alongside the stairs, and in a moment they were on a small, unlit foyer outside the bridge. The sliding doors to the bridge opened and Dune's vision was flooded with sunlight. The warm morning sun was a welcome sight after the darkness he had been subject to for so long.

Dune scanned the room for a sign of the Captain. The bridge was a large, wide room with hardly any walls, about ten meters long and fifteen meters wide. The entire room was encased in a long curving pane of sturdy glass, save the wall separating the foyer, giving the crew a 180 degree view of the surrounding land. There were numerous workstations scattered about the bridge, and due to the impending launch many of them were occupied with workers bustling to and fro, an uproar of voices, machinery and beeps filling the room. The doctor weaved Dune through the crowd of people and eventually managed to make it to where the Captain was standing, right at the very front of the bridge, not without 'accidentally' bumping into more than a few of the busy workers, though. Hoping to create more work for himself, perhaps?

The Captain did not notice them enter, and was fixedly staring out at the desert outside the window, his hands folded behind his back. The doctor cleared his throat disapprovingly, causing the Captain to start and swivel around on his wooden leg to face Doctor Atma, holding Dune in his wheelchair in front of him as if to form a barrier between him and the Captain.

"Ah, Atma, I thought that was you. Thanks for bringing Dune up here. That'll be all for now." Atma turned and quickly walked away, muttering under his breath the entire length of the bridge. The crew had learned their lesson from his entrance, and quickly swerved out of his path as he rushed back into the foyer and down the stairs.

"Well, Dune, I see you're feeling better. Good, good. Wouldn't want you to miss this before we shove off." He gave Dune a pat on his bandaged back, which hurt Dune quite a bit. Dune just forced a smile and nodded.

"Take a look out there Dune, and tell me what you see."

Dune carefully surveyed the desert that spread out in all directions before him. The bridge was almost fifty meters from the surface of the desert and it allowed Dune to see the shifting sands before him for miles. He again saw the waves of sand playfully vibrating in the heat of the sun, and the little islands of rock jutting out of the surface. He even thought for a moment he could see the very shattered rock he had pulled the mysterious crystal from. He saw something else now, something that had not been present before - signs of _life_. Yes, flitting warily above them some distance away Dune could just see a large black bird of some kind circling around an invisible focal point. After a few glances in various directions, he noticed more of the same birds circling their own imaginary centers. He now looked more carefully at the desert floor for more signs of life. Unless his eyes deceived him, there were the faint beginnings of plant life sprouting up from some of the rock formations. How had this happened? This desert had been dead for centuries, but now it was springing to life, as if a long-standing curse had been lifted from it. Dune was awestruck at the transformation these meager apparitions of life made on the desert's appearance. It no longer looked like a barren wasteland, but almost friendly...happy even. It was as if the entire desert was rejoicing at this new turn in its fortunes and was in a great hurry to restore the area to its former beauty, thought lost in the sands of time.

"It's something else, ain't it?" The Captain's voice raised Dune from his stupor, and Dune turned his head to face the Captain.

"What _is_ going on in this desert? I had hoped to find out why it was so devoid of life when I was assigned here, but it looks like nature straightened out that problem on her own. She has a way of doing that sometimes, heh. Like she's just toying with us scientists who work so hard to unravel her mysteries, only to have them unraveled of their own free will right before our eyes. I guess I'll never know what happened here now. Maybe its better that way." The Captain returned his gaze to the desert, his thoughts on the mystery he wasn't meant to solve.

Dune had an idea, though, but he hardly believed it himself. He kept his thoughts silent, and let the Captain enjoy his ignorance to what had really happened down there for a little longer. He wanted to put this experience behind him and get back to Narsille now more than anything. He couldn't believe it, but he had actually had quite enough of digging and deserts for the time being, and enough storms for a lifetime. He just wanted to go home, to Mae.

The Captain, his thoughts seeming to be one with Dune's, suddenly turned around once more and faced the crew, preparing to make the announcement to leave. The crew, instinctively aware of the Captain's change in countenance, stopped what they were doing and looked attentively at him. The adjustments were done, and they were ready for the Captain to give the word.

"Alright, listen up!" The Captain's gruff voice echoed through the now silent bridge, and all eyes and ears were on him. "We've been in this wretched desert long enough, and it's time to head back to Narsille, to our homes and families. Have all the adjustments been made?"

"Yes, sir! Everything is ready. Just give the word and we can start the engines."

"Well then what are ya waiting for! Let's move it!" The Captain was getting impatient. He wanted out of this desert almost as badly as Dune did.

With a flurry of activity, the crew rushed to their assigned workstations and busied themselves with the launch sequence. Dune was amazed at how well-trained and organized everyone was, but he guessed that was what was to be expected when someone like the Captain was in charge. He briefly wondered what things would have been like if he had decided to be the one giving orders, but put the thought past him as an idle fancy. Dune was no leader. He was happy to let the Captain assume his accustomed role as commander of this, his ship of the desert.

Dune's thoughts were broken by a sudden jolt and roar of the grinding of many gears below him. The mobile base, Figaro, was on the move. He imagined what must be happening, five floors below him at the base of the structure. The myriad steel supports that had anchored the camp to the desert floor were quickly being pulled up and replaced with the enormous treads lining the inner walls of the camp. The engineers must be running back and forth, making sure all the devices involved in the transformation were working properly. At any second an error could arise that could compromise the safety of the entire structure, and they needed to be ready. The replacing of the steel pillars with the treads was an intricate dance of machinery and man, and required a level of synchronization only an unbroken wall of concentration could achieve. One, two, three, four...the treads were slowly pushing their way out of the sides of the camp, and the steel pillars quickly disappearing back into the bowels of the Figaro. It looked like this dance was going to be another success.

With a huge plume of sand erupting from the desert floor, momentarily blinding the bridge, the Figaro lurched forward and began its slow crawl north to the utopian metropolis of Narsille, nestled at the foot of a vast mountain range. Dune was going home, at last.


	7. City of Dreams, 'The Doctor Is In'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

_The great glaciers of the north hide vast stores of natural resources, as well as a forgotten past frozen deep in the rich soil. The glaciers receded eons ago, leaving behind a fertile valley plentiful in coal, mythril, and geothermal energy. It is into this bountiful valley that people have flocked since time immemorial, searching for a better life. The current inhabitants may be the most recent, but they certainly were not the first. Certain... "artifacts" that have recently been unearthed prove this beyond a doubt._

-From _Regions and Cultures_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, in the year 1000 PW (Post War)

* * *

**Part 2.1 - The Doctor Is In**

It had been five days on the road, and the Figaro's long and uneventful journey home was nearing its end. It was a clear night on the wide open plains between the Thanas Desert and Narsille, and for the first time in almost a month the many lights of Narsille could be seen twinkling off in the distance. Many of the crew were outside on the sixth floor observation deck staring at these lights, anxiously awaiting the time when they would be among them once more. Dune was among these lost souls, and he too was standing on the deck, with the help of a cane and Dr. Atma's reluctant supervision. He had since recovered from his injuries enough that he was able to roam the ship freely, although Atma refused to let him stray too far out of his sight until he was fully healed. Dune was now wearing a brand new shirt to replace the old one, but he still wore the same weather-savaged hat. The hat was a mainstay of all of Dune's expeditions, and had been through worse than this. He still kept the black crystal close to him at all times, and had no intentions of telling anyone about it just yet.

"Quite a sight, isn't it Doctor?" Dune said cheerfully.

Dune was in a good mood tonight, and the sight of Narsille for the first time only lifted his spirits further. Soon he would be with Mae once more, and the terrible events in the desert could be put behind him for good. He walked over to the railing on the edge of the deck and leaned over, letting the moist night air refresh him. Atma kept close by him, not letting him stray from his sight for more than a second. He shivered at the cold air, and wanted nothing more than to return to his quarters.

"Hmm...I guess so. The sooner I get off this rig the better. It smells of oil and sweat, and is hardly a fitting place for a doctor." Atma turned to look at the shimmering lights of Narsille on the horizon and gave a disdainful snort. "Not like that place is much better. It may look clean and pure on the outside, but it still reeks of corruption at its core, I just know it. It's all the same, no matter where you go. Humans are imperfect, weak creatures, falling prey to their vices far too easily."

Dune was in too good a mood for the doctor's usual contemptuous rants to affect him, though. With an inner cheerfulness in sharp contrast to the doctor's gloominess, he thought he would banter with him for a bit. "Now, doctor, surely we deserve more credit than that? Just look at the city before you. Everyone is happy, are they not? Even if there was some form of trivial corruption at its core, that is the past and there is no point worrying about it now. There isn't a man alive now who isn't well-fed and well-provided for. That small amount of corruption may just have been a necessary step to reach this level of perfection. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Don't you agree?"

Atma just stared at Dune with the look of an adult correcting a child. "Well _I'm _not happy, and I know why. Humans need struggle, they need to suffer to be truly happy. We have forgotten what it means to _survive_, now we just live in a state of ignorant bliss. You say everyone is happy. Do you know that for sure? Do you know what really goes on outside your little bubble? _I_ do. I see the signs of unrest come through my office everyday. There is something going on just underneath the surface of this city of dreams, this utopia. I can smell it, feel it. It sickens me. Your precious Committee is at the heart of it, and one day you will see that, and then you will be like me. Ha!" He let out a cold sharp laugh that caught Dune off guard, and broke through his wall of positive energy. He suddenly felt that he had heard quite enough of the doctor's opinions.

"Hm, well if that is your opinion, I'll let you have it. Only time will be the judge of whether we truly have achieved a perfect society or not. For now, I am happy with it and, as far as I know, most of the population is as well," Dune finished, an unusual feeling pushing its way up, as if there were some unspoken truth behind the doctor's words. He unconsciously clutched the pocket that held the crystal, and continued gazing out across the plains.

"So be it. I'll let you have yours as well," Atma said jeeringly, ending the conversation. After a few moments, Atma again spoke up, "It is too cold up here for me, and surely you've had enough of those lights for now? Let us get back to our rooms and get some sleep. You still need your rest if you hope to be fully recovered by the time we reach Narsille."

"I guess you are right, Doctor. I do feel rather tired after wandering around the Figaro in my state. Let's go back down," Dune said resignedly.

Dune, carefully assisted by Atma and his cane, slowly made the trek down to the third floor where the crew's quarters were. Dune had decided against riding the lift too often, and thought it would be better if he got some exercise using the stairs instead. It was a slow decent, and Atma's grumbling did not make it easier. After being in such close contact with the doctor and his personality for so long, Dune often wondered just what had made him such a disagreeable, downtrodden person, but he would never have had enough courage to actually confront him about his negative attitude. He just silently put up with the doctor's sourness and let him deal with it himself, letting the theories fly back and forth in his mind.

"Well, here we are, Cabin #35," the doctor said, interrupting Dune's thoughts. "Now get some rest. Doctor's orders." Atma curtly turned around and walked over to his own room, and shut the door with more force than was warranted for such a simple task.

Dune could sense the universal contempt behind the shutting of the door, and felt more of his cheerfulness melt away. He, too, would be glad to get off this rig of oil and sweat, if not just to be rid of the doctor's negative aura that had enveloped him almost unceasingly for the past five days. He quietly slipped into his room and carefully took his shirt off, making sure not to disturb the crystal hidden within it. He had kept it hidden well, and no one had suspected that he had actually found something out in the desert, that the dig had been a success. He wondered if he would tell the Committee when the time came. Surely at least the Committee should know? After all, this was assuredly the object they had hoped to find out here, and it would do Dune no good to keep it from them. He weighed the choices of keeping the crystal and disappointing the Committee, and the painful act of giving up the crystal to appease them. It was a difficult decision for Dune's honest mind, now darkened with the taint of the crystal's influence, and it was with these troubling thoughts that he laid his head on the pillow and went to sleep uneasily, doubly burdened by the both the crystal's and Atma's negative energy.


	8. City of Dreams, 'Phantom in the Night'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.2 - Phantom in the Night**

Dune's agitated sleep was cut short by a sudden shaking that resounded throughout the whole room. What was going on? Was he dreaming again? Where was the crystal? Dune sat straight up and peered in the direction of his shirt just in time to see a dark figure stooping over it. The shadow saw him and dashed out of the room with remarkable speed, quickly shutting the door behind it. Dune could not make out what the figure was in the darkness, but it had definitely had an interest in his shirt, and that could only mean it knew about the crystal. Perhaps it had already taken it! The room was still shaking violently, but Dune tried his best to get up and get to his shirt. He grabbed his cane and quickly got out of the bed. The shaking was too much for him in his condition though, and he immediately fell to the floor, his cane rattling to the floor beside him. The thought of losing the crystal forced him forwards though. He crawled forward to the chair as fast as he could and reached up to grab a piece of the shirt that was hanging off the seat. He tore at the shirt like a madman searching for the crystal, the idea that it could be gone driving him into a frenzy. Success! The cold aura of the crystal met his fingers and he pulled it from its pocket to make sure it was really there. He clumsily rolled the crystal between his fingers, the shaking making it difficult to examine. He couldn't see or feel anything except the coldness in the darkness of his room, but he knew that the object in his hands was indeed his crystal. The bond that had formed between them was an unmistakable feeling, and he knew from its presence alone that it was real.

His lust momentarily quenched, he put the crystal back in its pocket and put his shirt on. His scientist's curiosity was coming back now, and he was determined to see what all this shaking was about. He grabbed his cane from the floor and staggered out of the room and down the corridor to the stairs...no the lift would be better in this situation. The lights were still out and only the dim blinking of the various control panels on the walls lit his way. He would never be able to make it up the stairs in this. He got on the lift and pressed the button for the bridge with the head of his cane. The Captain would know what was going on, and he would certainly be on the bridge giving orders by now. Slightly comforted by his confidence in the Captain's abilities, he carefully leaned on his cane and caught his breath while the lift slowly and shakily made its way to the bridge on the fifth floor. As the lift passed the fourth floor foyer, Dune caught a glimpse in the dim lighting of the sliding doors closing and a shadowy figure rapidly gliding between them and into the space beyond. It was that apparition again! Where was it going? The fourth floor was the cargo bay for the loading and unloading of all large equipment and vehicles. Was it trying to make an escape? Dune was tempted to stop the lift and see, but he felt it was more important to get to the Captain and see what the situation was before trailing the unknown intruder. Besides, the cargo bay doors could only be opened from the bridge, and the intruder couldn't possibly escape even if the doors were open. It was a thirty meter drop from the doors without the ramp being extended. What was it planning on doing? Dune's mind was filled with these thoughts when the lift stopped at the bridge and the sliding doors opened.

Even the bridge was bathed in relative darkness, with the dim lights from the dozens of buzzing workstations and the pale glow of the moons filtering in through the glass mixing to form an eerie scene. The workers where busily running from one work station to the other, but they were doing so silently and with much care, due to the extremely limited lighting and steady shaking. To Dune's eyes it looked like a macabre play, with the workers appearing as barely visible specters dancing in between the glowing faces of the workstation panels. He was taken aback for a moment, but his senses came back to him when he heard the Captain's voice yell out from one of the workstations.

"Dune! What the hell are ya doing here!" You should be in bed in your condition! Get the hell out of here!" He was more irritated than usual, and it seem as if something unusual was certainly happening on board the Figaro. This was the first time Dune had seen the Captain anywhere on the bridge other than up in the front in his usual position, giving orders to the rest of the crew.

"Captain, sir, what is going on? What is causing this vibration?" Dune yelled out across the bridge. He was not going to leave without some kind of explanation.

"You fool of a scientist! You're the geologist around here, you tell us! The entire area within a mile radius just started shaking about five minutes ago and hasn't stopped since. It was all we could do to keep the Figaro from falling over-Dammit! Not like that! More ballast to the quarter hold! Get that line set up right so we can have some damn light in here!" The Captain's explanation had trailed off into a heated string of commands to the unlucky crewman next to him. The Captain was no longer paying any attention to Dune. Dune didn't dare argue with him in the current situation, and he had gotten as much information from the Captain as he was going to get anyways.

Dune took one last look at the bridge for any clues as to what was going on, and then turned to leave. Before he got to the lift, though, he remembered the shadowy figure he had seen and thought it would be wise to let the Captain know. He rushed back into the bridge to tell him, but as soon as he stepped foot into the room a violent explosion rocked the Figaro. Pieces of debris large and small could be seen flying up and hitting the outside of the glass shield of the bridge from the floor below and then a huge black cloud of smoke rose up and blanketed the outside view, cloaking the bridge in almost total darkness. Small wisps of smoke swiftly poured into the bridge through cracks in the shield, making it difficult for anyone to see anything. A moment later a projectile of some kind cut a path through the smoke from below and wound its way up through the billowing black mass, the flames from its engines lighting its path through the darkness for all to see. It broke through the cloud, strings of smoke still clinging to its sides, and spiraled off away from the Figaro. The object quickly faded from sight, leaving a trail of exhaust behind it for miles. The Captain was quick to respond to this new threat, and changed his string of commands mid-sentence with the fluidity of many years in the position of being in charge.

"-The hell? Someone get a tracking signal on that thing! Don't let it out of your sight! That looked like one of ours, so one of you get your asses down to the cargo bay and check the registration logs to see which one he took. He won't get away from me that easily!" A single crew member silently leaped from his console and dashed out the door. The Captain quickly swiveled around on his wooden leg to face a group of crewmen huddled around another workstation. "You three! Get down there and help him. Get a damage report and get those flames under control ASAP!" He swiveled again, "You there, get the air turrets working and clear this blasted smoke off the shield! And would someone get that _damn_ line set up right so we can tell our asses from our faces!" The Captain was spinning like a top now. "Connor! Get over here and help me adjust the ballasts. That explosion knocked us off balance again. Just when the shaking stopped too, hmph!" The Captain's commands were settling back down into their previous cycle and the situation, on the bridge at least, was back under control.

Dune had been knocked to the floor in the commotion, and he didn't dare get up until things were under control. Not having anything on his mind but what was happening immediately around him, he had noticed that as soon as the unknown object had left the Figaro the shaking had stopped. His head throbbed with all the possibilities of what could be happening and what it all meant, and he just wanted to get off this horrible ship and back on the solid, still ground of Narsille. There were never earthquakes there, not since the Committee had set up seismic regulators around its perimeter. Dune thought about all the pleasantries of his home to keep his mind off the chaos that was swirling around him. A sharp tug at his shoulder stirred him from these soothing memories, and he looked up and saw the sharply lined face of the Captain, dripping with perspiration and stained with soot. He could sense the heaving paunch, and knew it was time to get up off the floor.

"I thought I told you clear outta here, Dune! You could've been killed, you know that? Damn fool of a scientist..." The Captain seemed more shaken over Dune's safety than over the events that had just happened, and he kept staring at Dune to make sure he wasn't hurt.

"I'm sorry Captain. I wasn't hurt in the explosion, so don't worry about me." Dune stopped for a second and patted the pocket with the crystal to make sure it was still there before continuing, "Sir, I came back onto the bridge to warn you about an intruder I had seen entering the cargo bay on my way up...but I guess I was too late."

"Arrr, so there _was_ an intruder...hmm." He straightened himself out and wiped the sweat and soot off his face, then continued, "No worries. We've got his number and he won't get too far. Don't know _what _he could have possibly wanted here, though. We didn't find anything on the dig, and the Figaro doesn't carry any especially valuable equipment. Doesn't make any sense..."

Dune felt another pang of guilt at the mention of the supposed failure of the dig, but something inside him kept him from divulging the crystal's existence even then. He knew this would only breed more trouble later on, but he couldn't bring himself to tell the Captain. Not yet. He promised himself that he would tell the Captain everything once they reached Narsille to set his mind at ease. He would make this promise more than once before the Figaro made it to the gates of the city.

The Captain adjusted his eye patch and turned to the bridge, taking in the aftermath of the explosion and the earthquake. "Why'd all this have to happen so close to Narsille? The repair crew back home is going to have a helluva time fixing this baby up. A destroyed searchlight, totaled cargo bay, cracked bridge shield, the ballast equalizers are shot to hell, and I don't know _what_ the problem was with the lights...what a mess. And we were only a day's ride from the city, too. I'm gonna catch hell from the Committee over this." The Captain slammed his fist against a nearby workstation and left Dune to continue yelling orders to the crew. The lights had since been restored and the smoke and debris cleared, and all that was left to do was make sure the Figaro didn't lose her balance on the last stretch of the voyage home.

Dune doggedly got up and made his way to the foyer, aware that he was doing nothing but getting in the way by staying. He had seen enough, and wanted to get back to his room and get what little sleep he could before morning. He got on the lift and started down towards the third floor once more. He glanced cautiously at the foyer to the fourth floor as he passed it, but there was nothing to be seen except the sturdy blast doors now securely in place due to the explosion. Whoever that was, he had came for the crystal, and had failed. He had managed to escape, though, and whoever he was working for, if anyone, would know Dune had the crystal now. Dune clutched the pocket out of habit, and wondered just what it was he had found, and why it seemed all of heaven and earth wanted it. He certainly couldn't see what its value was from a logical standpoint, even though he knew that he too would do anything to keep it from the rest of the world.

Far away from the Figaro in an open clearing, a shadowy figure stood invisible and motionless in the black night, the moons' rays seeming to pass through him. He was surrounded by the wreckage of what appeared to be a small plane of some kind, and he was quietly speaking in a hoarse rasp of a whisper, apparently to himself.

"I have ascertained the location of the second gravity crystal. It is in the possession of one Dune Karn, a Narsillian archeologist on board the mobile base Figaro."

"No, I was unable to retrieve the crystal."

"...Yes... 'He' intervened, as expected. I was detected and had no choice but to make my escape."

"I will not fail next time."


	9. City of Dreams, 'Homecoming'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.3 - Homecoming**

The Figaro meanwhile was now making its last silent march towards the mountain metropolis of Narsille. It had reached the narrow pass that led directly to the massive gates of the city, and was now in more danger than it had been yet. The last leg of the journey was an especially difficult one, with the increasingly rocky terrain posing a major threat to the now unbalanced base. With every hour the path became steeper and steeper, and at any moment the Figaro could tip over backwards and fall onto its back, never to get up again. With this threat hanging over them, the crew of the Figaro was a somber sight, and barely ever talked now, their minds wholly centered on keeping the base upright. They spent as much time as possible guiding the base through the crags of the mountain path, constantly running between the bridge and the engineering section on the first floor to ensure an unbroken line of communication at all times. The Captain was a grim sight to behold during this perilous last stretch, and the crew stayed away from him as much as they could. He spent most of his time on the bridge in his usual position staring out at the path ahead of him, his one eye fixed on the steadily growing lights of Narsille. Every once and a while he would turn around, as if sensing a slight shift in the base's equilibrium, and yell out a few minute adjustments to the crewmen working the ballasts. With the loss of the ballast equalizers, they were forced to make every adjustment in weight, whether it be major or minor, by hand, and it was a tiring and dangerous process for all involved. Crewman and engineers were seen dashing to the first floor and back every half-hour, checking to make sure the Figaro was perfectly balanced at all times.

Dune was one of the few people on board who had nothing to do, and decided to spend some time on the observation deck alone watching his home grow steadily closer. It would be less than a day before he was walking the streets far beneath his apartment once more, and his anticipation was growing with every hour. The night's events and the day's hopes had prevented him from sleeping for any large amount of time, and he had decided it best to get up to see the sun rise over the distant peaks behind Narsille. He shivered in the cold air as the morning sun rose to greet him, the two moons slowly descending back down, their dance over for another night. It was now approaching winter in this region, and the temperature was dropping steadily as the Figaro climbed in altitude. Dune had brought with him a thick overcoat to keep himself warm, but even that only helped a small amount, although the weather itself was not the problem. As the temperature decreased, it seemed the temperature of crystal in his pocket decreased as well, as if it refused to be showed up by the surrounding air. This made Dune extremely uncomfortable, and his overcoat could not help him here. The obvious thing to be done was to leave the crystal in his room, but this thought never even crossed Dune's normally logical mind, as if all natural urges to discard the crystal were being suppressed.

Dune stared hard at the lights ahead of him, trying to make out the tall spires of the city around them. It was still too far to see anything clearly, but Dune could definitely see the dim outline of the city heights above the large cluster of lights at its base. The city was almost as tall as it was wide, and some of the larger apartment complexes reached almost three miles into the sky. With over 40 million inhabitants and immovable mountains on all sides, the city had had no choice but to expand upwards when the ground below had become too crowded. The Committee had of course overseen most of the construction of the new buildings, and was always in the middle of planning higher and higher additions to these massive towers of steel and glass. It was in one of these towers that Dune lived, and it was his very own apartment that he tried in vain to espy from the deck of the Figaro. Soon, though, he thought to himself, he _would_ be able to pick out the very section of the very tower that was his own, and he fondly imagined the single lone occupant of that section anxiously waiting for his return. Perhaps Mae, too, was looking out over the rocky barrens between them, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Figaro crawling up the mountain path, ready to deliver her husband safely back into her arms? It was with these comforting thoughts Dune warmed himself as the Figaro made its final ascent.

A momentary shift in the base's balance sent Dune unexpectedly reeling backwards. He quickly caught the railing with the hooked end of his cane before falling over and steadied himself once more. Shifts like this were to be expected now and then with everything being done manually, and after such a close call Dune decided that it would be best if he stayed indoors for the rest of journey. Besides, it looked like it was going to snow, and Dune was cold enough as it was. He bundled up his overcoat and started towards the hatch that led down to the fifth floor foyer. As he was turning to climb down the hatch he took one last look at Narsille, then shifted his gaze to the destroyed watchtower nearby where the large searchlight once was. There was nothing there now except a skeletal tower of steel and glass, twisted and frayed by the force of the lightning, a grim contrast to the towers of Narsille. It would seem a bolt even more powerful than the one that had struck him had done this, and he shuddered at the memory of the storm as he climbed back down. There were no storms in Narsille, either, not since the Committee had set up its weather regulators to compliment its seismic regulators. There were never any problems in Narsille, the city of dreams.

Dune carefully made his way down the ladder, hooking his cane around the rungs of the ladder to support some of his weight as he descended. No sooner had he safely set foot on the fifth floor foyer than another shift in balance shook the base. This would be a perilous last stretch indeed. Dune had barely recovered from the shift when he heard the Captain's voice yelling at the crewmen, even through the closed bridge doors. Dune knew better than to walk onto the bridge now, and he silently continued down to the second floor. He would wait out the rest of his journey in the safety of his room on the third floor, but not before getting something to eat in the cafeteria on the second floor. He knew Dr. Atma would probably be looking for him soon to renew the unpleasant daily task of supervising his recovery, so he hurried to the cafeteria to grab one last meal and moment of peace. He glanced in the infirmary as he passed it on the way to the cafeteria at the end of the corridor, but it was dark and silent; Atma must still be sleeping. Dune breathed a sigh of relief and continued down the hall and into the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was a large open room, about twice as large as the bridge, and was large enough to accommodate the entire crew if necessary. There were several hundred chairs lined up along ten extremely long tables, each being parallel to the one next to it. At the back of the spacious room was a large glass shield similar to the one on the bridge. The shield offered a window to the rear of the base, which at the moment showed a long, wide, winding trail steadily falling away from the Figaro, with two sets of deeply furrowed tracks lining the trail. Not many crew members preferred such a view on the homeward journey, and most of the crew had no time anymore for such idleness. As such, the cafeteria was not very crowded at this early time and Dune was almost the only person there, save the cooks. Dune could smell the breakfast being prepared for the crew, and it smelled unusually good for the food that was usually prepared here. He guessed that the cooks were preparing something special for the crew, this being the crew's last meal on board. The cooks, knowing the trials the crew had had to overcome during the course of the night, obviously wanted to make their last meal an especially good one. Dune had no problems with this, and walked over to the counter near the entrance and eagerly ordered his breakfast. He sat down at the closest seat he could find and began vigorously devouring his meal.

Just as Dune was finishing his meal the double doors to the cafeteria swung open and none other than the Captain walked in and yelled out an order comprised mostly of seafood to the bewildered cooks. They quickly gave him his meal and went back to preparing their masterpiece for the rest of the crew. The Captain never ate anything extravagant, and his diet almost solely consisted of fish. A true man of the sea in almost every way. Dune was surprised to see him here, but he guessed that even the Captain needs to eat every once and while, and now was as good a time as any, there being no recent shifts in balance. The Captain spotted Dune and nodded, but said nothing. He walked over to where Dune was seated, pulling up a seat across from him and dropping his plate on the table with a clang. He was apparently still agitated about the condition of the Figaro, and Dune would not be the one to break the silence. Fortunately, it seems the Captain wanted to talk, and he started up the conversation for Dune.

"Hey, Dune, what do you make of all this?" The Captain said this in a surprisingly weary voice. It would seem the events of the night and the constant supervision of the base had taken their toll on the old man, and at the moment he was showing his age quite clearly. Dune remembered seeing a similar Captain six nights ago when he had first woken up after the storm.

"I don't know, Captain. It does seem like we've had a nasty string of bad luck recently. Surely you've been through worse than this on the open sea, though?" Dune hoped bringing up memories of the Captain's triumphs over the sea would lift his spirits.

"Arrr...yes, but I am a man of the sea, I need the rolling waves and the sea breeze to be happy. I'm out of my element here, and this Figaro is a poor substitute for my Maiden of the Sea. As soon as we finish up things in Narsille, I'm heading back out to sea in her and riding the waves and the winds once again. You're welcome to join me if you like, Dune." The Captain gave a quick light-hearted glance at Dune.

The Captain remembered his own vessel fondly, and Dune could see that the old flame was slowly coming back into his form. The last thing Dune wanted to do, however, was join the Captain at sea. Dune was as much out of his element over water as the Captain was in the middle of the desert, and on every trip he had taken on the Captain's ship in the past he had gotten violently ill. Even the smell of the fish on the Captain's plate was making him feel rather queasy as memories of his adventures with the Captain resurfaced. The Captain, noticing the change in Dune's complexion, let out a loud laugh that shook the table.

"Gahahaha!...Still haven't gotten your sea legs after all these years, eh, Dune m'boy? No worries. I was only fooling with ya. I know you ain't got no love for the sea like I do. 'Tis a shame, though." The Captain was back to his old self again, and he and Dune contentedly talked about old times until the first shift of the crew started silently entering the cafeteria in groups of two or three, the cooks eagerly serving them their well-deserved meal.

Seeing that it was time to get back to work, the Captain took leave of Dune and the cafeteria to return to the bridge. He left the cafeteria in a much better mood than when he had walked in, much to the relief of the crewman he passed on the way out. Dune, too, was in a much better mood, and he even felt like he could deal with being around Dr. Atma for just one more day. Dune got up and left the cafeteria as well, and as he walked past the infirmary once more, he heard Atma's greasy voice echoing from behind him. It seems the good doctor was now in.

"Dune! Where do you think you're going? Especially after what happened last night! You are still in no condition to be roaming the halls without doctor's supervision. I have to make sure you are perfectly capable for active duty before I give you a clean bill of health. That means one last exam before we reach Narsille, so turn around and get back in here!" It seemed Atma was in a rather foul mood after the events of the night as well, although it was hard to tell whether it was any worse than his usual demeanor. Dune had no choice but to follow the doctor's orders, and prepared himself for what would hopefully be his last day with him.


	10. City of Dreams, 'Gears and Guilt'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.4 - Gears and Guilt**

After getting the okay from Dr. Atma, Dune was free to go to his room to wait until the Figaro reached Narsille. Atma had indeed seemed more irritated today than usual, and Dune wondered what was bothering him. He knew Atma did not like Narsille any more than the Figaro, and wondered if their approach to the city was the cause of his increasingly negative mood. Dune didn't dwell on this thought, and was quite content to leave the doctor to his own devices if the doctor was willing to do the same for Dune. Since there wasn't anything better for Dune to do, he put his things in order for his departure. He had brought very few items along for the trip, and it was a relatively simple task. He noticed that he did not have his pickaxe anymore, and realized that he must have forgotten it back at the desert in his escape from the storm. He chuckled at the irony of this and continued packing, making sure to transfer his crystal from the pocket of his work shirt into the pocket of his regular street clothes. He still had not told anyone about the crystal, and the guilt of his secrecy was growing as Narsille approached and his promise was put to the test.

Dune was long done packing and growing restless once again when the Captain's voice was heard on the intercom, announcing the Figaro's imminent arrival at the gates of Narsille. Dune was not going to miss this long awaited moment, and hurried up to the bridge, ignoring the doctor's orders to stay in his room until he arrived to escort him. Dune was not the only one going to the bridge to see the opening of the gates first-hand, and he had a difficult time maneuvering past all the people excitedly filing out of various rooms towards the stairs. After some pushing and shoving, Dune made it to the fifth floor foyer and anxiously entered the bridge with a group of workers. The bridge was nearly filled to capacity with crewmen and other Figaro workers, and the disorderly noise of multiple excited conversations was all he could hear. It seemed as if there was a party on the bridge with the entire crew invited, and Dune wondered if there were still any unlucky workers manning the ballasts on the first floor. This thought distracted him for only a second, though, and soon vanished as he looked out through the still-cracked shield.

It was now snowing heavily outside, making it difficult to see the gates in all their glory, but they could still be seen, standing tall and immovable against the storm as the final barrier between the world of nature and man. Beyond these gates it was sure to be warm and sunny, just like it was everyday in Narsille. The gates took up almost the entire view, and they were nearly twice as tall and wide as the massive Figaro. The gates were made of an extremely durable material known as mythril, like much of the base structures of Narsille, and could withstand even the harshest attacks against them. The mythril gave the gates a shiny bluish-white hue, and at night they almost seemed to glow like a third moon descended to earth. The national symbol of Narsille, a pickaxe crossing over a feather, could be seen engraved on each of the two doors. The pickaxe represented the coal-mining roots of the city, and the feather represented the city's long-standing peace and position of neutrality. The gates made an impressive impression on all who saw them, and were a symbol of the power and knowledge of Narsille, and the Committee as well. The large mythril gates were one of the first projects the Committee had set out to accomplish, and at the time they were made to protect the city from intruders. There were no intruders left outside the gates in this time of peace, though, and the gates were now used mainly as a barrier from the elements. Near the base of the gate were many smaller gates that could be opened and shut quickly for most of the smaller comings and goings. The Figaro was of course much too large for these passages, and its crew would enjoy the rare sight of the towering gates being fully opened to let them pass.

The gatekeepers were soon aware of the Figaro's arrival, and a deafening creaking of gears could be heard starting over the commotion on the bridge, and one by one the conversations dropped off until only the gears could be heard. A large outpouring of steam erupted from many small apertures lining the center of the gates, and with a small shudder that could be felt throughout the base, the gate doors began to slowly wedge themselves apart, sliding back into the recesses of the mountain walls on either side. It was a slow process, taking almost fifteen minutes to complete, but the crew of the Figaro was patient, and waited with bated breath as the doors made their retreat. They had come this far, and one more trial was nothing to them. One more small shudder and the gates ceased moving. A wide open space lay before the base, and piled up around it were riggings designed for the securing of large vessels. The Figaro could not actually enter the city because of its size, so an elevator platform had been built right at the entrance to carry it underground to the cavernous halls beneath the city where at one time much mining for precious metals had been done, but now were expanded and used for the storage of the larger equipment in the use of the city. The Figaro was one such device, and at a single silent hand motion from Captain, still standing resolutely at the front of the bridge, the beleaguered base humbly crawled onto the platform. It had finally made it home after a long and arduous climb.

Dozens of tiny workers could be seen running along the rigging to attach the harnesses to the base that would keep it safe during its descent into the earth. Once the Figaro was safely in place another small shudder signaled the starting of the elevator, and the surrounding structures could be seen rising out of view, being replaced with the many long columns of light lining the shaft leading to the storage halls. After descending nearly two hundred meters, the elevator slowed to a halt and the base was carefully released from its harnesses and led off the platform and into the brightly lit loading docks, where many devices similar in size to the Figaro were silently waiting to be used. The Figaro was meticulously positioned into its proper storage space, and with one final command from the Captain, her engines were shut off. Mission accomplished. A cheer went up from the crew on the bridge, and even the Captain turned around and smiled at the crew.

"Well Dune, that about wraps this mission up. Let's get off this deathtrap and get some fresh air, eh?" The Captain was still smiling as he walked over to where Dune was standing, shaking hands and patting the backs of some of his fellow crew as he passed them.

"Yes, Captain that is an excellent idea. Let me just go get my belongings and we can be off." Dune too was smiling, and for the moment his promise had slipped his mind. His home was the only thing on his mind at the moment.

"Well hurry up! I'll be waiting outside for you. I'm sure the repair crew is going to want to hear the low down on just what the hell happened here, and I bet they're all waiting right outside with their tools ready. I doubt they'll be too happy with the condition we brought her back in." The Captain let out a low laugh and walked off the bridge.

Dune took one last look at the bridge and then followed the Captain. He quickly walked to his room and grabbed his bag then turned around to leave, and almost ran right into Dr. Atma standing in the doorway.

"And where do you think you're going, hmm? I thought I told you to stay in your room until I came and got you?" Atma did not look too happy, even for him. He did not like having his orders ignored.

"Sorry, Doctor, but I just went up to the bridge to see the gates being opened. I'm fine, and I feel well enough that I think I can handle moving about on my own from now on. If that is alright with you?" Dune finished quickly, not wanting to upset the doctor any further.

"Hmph, fine do whatever you want if you think you're ready. I gave you your last exam and found no causes for concern, so you're free to do as you please now. You are now no longer under my care. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pressing duties to attend to in the city. If something happens, don't come looking for me. Go find a Narsille doctor on duty instead." With that, Atma left Dune as quickly as he had found him.

Dune, hardly bothered by the doctor's decree, left the room and walked back down the hall to the stairs. He climbed up to the sixth floor and up onto the deck. There were numerous makeshift causeways now connecting the deck to the surrounding structure, and Dune soon saw the Captain standing on the other side talking to what appeared to be the head of the repair crew. He hurried across the causeway and over to where the Captain was standing.

"Ah, Dune! It's about time. This here's the head of Figaro maintenance, Alex Figaro himself." The Captain waved Dune over and introduced the man he was talking with.

Alex was a tall man and appeared to be about the same age as the Captain, although in much better condition. He had shining blonde hair braided in the back into a well-kept pony-tail, much different than Dune's own unruly lock of grey-white hair that hung down his back. He was a well-built, handsome man for his age, with an unmistakable air of confidence around him. He wore a pair of stiff blue worker's overalls and a matching long blue coat. He looked very clean and orderly, and if Dune hadn't known better, he'd swear he was talking with royalty.

"Nice to meet you Professor Figaro. I've heard much about your achievements in mobile desert technology, and it's an honor to finally meet you." Dune greeted Alex cordially, not wanting to upset him. He knew he couldn't be very pleased with the appearance of his namesake.

"Ah, call me Alex. I don't like the sound of formal titles too much. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Dune. The Captain has told me quite a bit about you, and it seems you're quite the dedicated archeologist. Isn't that right, Mobius?" He gave the Captain a light jab with his elbow.

"Err, yes, that's right. Dune is probably almost as dedicated to his field as you are Alex. You two would get on well together, I'm sure," the Captain replied, rather uncomfortably. He obviously did not prefer being addressed by his name, although he made no outward sign that it bothered him. He remained relatively quiet, though, as if he was deep in thought about something.

"Mobius and I go way back. I helped him build and pilot his pride and joy, the Maiden of the Sea, way back when he was no older than you are. Must've been what, forty years ago? Although I daresay I took better care of it than he took of my own pride and joy..." Alex's gaze shifted from Dune to the Figaro beneath them, now crawling with repairmen.

"I apologize for the condition we brought your vessel back in, Professor. We had a bit of bad luck on the return trip. I hope the damage isn't too extensive?" Dune said apprehensively, fearing the worst.

"Nah, nothing to worry about, Dune. She should be back up and operational within a week. I heard all about what happened from Mobius. You don't need to apologize to me, it looks like what happened couldn't be helped. And please, call me Alex. No need for formalities here. A friend of Mobius is a friend of mine!" Alex said this in a disarmingly friendly tone, and Dune had no choice but to comply with his request.

"Well, I'd better get going and make sure the repairs are going smoothly. It was nice seeing you again, Mobius, and nice to meet you as well Dune. Good luck with your report to the Committee!" Alex waved them off and walked over to the deck of the Figaro, leaping down into the hatch. For a man his age, he was remarkably agile.

The Captain spoke up after Alex had left them, "Well, let's get going, then Dune. The Committee is going to want a full report on our expedition, even if we didn't find anything."

At this point Dune was again reminded of his promise, and he wrestled with the burden of his discovery, debating whether to tell the Captain now or reveal everything at the conference with the Committee members. After some careful considerations, he thought it would be best to wait until they were with the Committee members to tell the Captain everything. The crystal was once again subtly guiding Dune's thoughts to continue keeping its existence a secret as long as possible, and once again Dune folded against its will and remained silent at the mention of the fate of the dig. He clutched at his pocket and followed the Captain away from the Figaro and back up to the surface.


	11. City of Dreams, 'A Warm Reception'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.5 - A Warm Reception**

Dune nervously looked around as he followed the Captain to the elevator to the surface. They had left the loading docks and were walking down a long winding corridor with many branches, most of which Dune had never been down. Luckily for Dune, the trip to the Committee headquarters was a relatively straightforward one, since all paths under the city stemmed from it. The Committee headquarters was the hub from which most major ventures in Narsille originated, and it seemed all roads in the city eventually passed it. Dune wasn't paying attention to the path, though. He was too busy thinking about what he was going to tell the Committee, and what he was not going to tell the Committee. He had originally assumed he was going to tell them everything, but with every step closer to headquarters he convinced himself to keep one more piece of information to himself. By the time they had reached the elevators Dune had already almost convinced himself to not say anything at all and let the Captain do the talking.

"Something bothering you Dune? You haven't said a word since we left the loading docks, and you keep grabbing at your chest." The Captain had stopped at the entrance to the elevator and was now looking at Dune.

"No! No, nothing is bothering me, Captain. I'm just organizing my thoughts for the conference. Please, let's keep going. We don't want to keep the Committee waiting." Dune shifted his glasses and continued absently looking around him.

"Whatever you say. It's not like there's much to organize. We went where we were assigned to go, stayed for a week, found nothing and left. The End. What more could there be to say?" The Captain could see that something was bothering Dune, but he wasn't going to pry unless he had a reason; besides, he had his own problems to deal with. "Well let's get going, then. Narsille is just above us."

The Captain got on the elevator and Dune followed him, his mind filled with guilt at the mention of the dig again. He couldn't take this silence that was so against his nature much longer. Sooner or later he was going to burst, and there was nothing the crystal's influence could do to prevent it. The Captain started the elevator and it rose in silence, both occupants seeming absorbed in their own thoughts. They were soon once again at the surface, near the entrance to the city, and the massive blue-white gates could be seen glowing behind them, now shut against the outside world. It was most likely still snowing outside, but behind the gates it was comfortably warm and bright, just like it always was. Ahead of them they could see the wide main road of the city, with the extreme heights of the rows of identical mile-high buildings stretching up and out of their sight on both sides, casting long dark shadows on the streets below. There were crowds of people roaming the sides of the darkened street, quickly and silently going from one side street across to the next. The main street itself was full of vehicles of various shapes and sizes, all moving in perfect synchronization. The Committee had established an automatic transportation system for the city, and congestion was a thing of the past now. The actual building that housed the Committee headquarters was at the very center of the city, and unlike the other buildings it was extremely wide and round, but not overly tall. It was a large dome-like structure, and was made of the same mythril as the gates. Its bright glow would make it an easy landmark to find, even if all the main roads didn't stem from it. This is where Dune and the Captain were headed, and they promptly boarded the nearest bus and made their way silently to the heart of the city.

Dune looked out the window as they passed the many buildings and side roads lining the main road. Many of the buildings had stores of various kinds on the ground floors, making shopping a relatively easy task. As Dune was watching the people go in and out of them, he spotted a familiar face in the crowd - Dr. Atma! He watched Atma intently as he pushed his way through the crowd to his destination. He had the same sour look on his face and didn't seemed too pleased to have to wade through the masses. Atma was quickly and purposefully walking towards a nearby building, unusually black compared to the usual pale blueness of most buildings in the city, but the bus rode out of view before he could get a good look at what was within it. It had looked like...the city morgue? What would Atma be doing there? Checking up on one of his less fortunate patients, maybe? This unexpected sighting had momentarily taken Dune's mind off of the conference and before he knew where he was, the bus had stopped and the Captain was glaring at him impatiently.

"Dune! Wake up! This is our stop!" If the Captain hadn't been sitting down, his wooden leg would almost certainly have been against Dune's head by now.

Dune quickly came to his senses and apologized to the Captain, and then silently followed him off the bus, his old train of thought coming back. The moment of truth wasn't far off now. He prepared himself one more time and continued following the Captain to the large bronze doors of the Committee headquarters. Above the doors was the seal of the city, and the official title of the Committee: "The Committee for the Preservation of Global Stability". Dune repeated the name to himself, Atma's words echoing in his mind. He wondered if there really was more to the Committee than "the preservation of global stability". He entered the building after the Captain and they made their way to the conference room where the head Committee members were surely already aware of their arrival. The Committee always knew what was going on in the city as soon as anything happened, and appointments rarely needed to be made.

Sure enough, Dune could see a Committee member stationed outside the room waiting to show them in. It was Adam Kruz, one of the top Committee officials. He was a short, pale man with a nervous twitch and eyes that darted all around him. His nervous looks belied an inner cunning that was unmatched by any of the other Committee members, and was the reason a man of his stature and demeanor had made it so high up in the chain of command. He would never be the President, but he would always be right behind them, in the shadows subtly adding his advice and making his mark.

He quickly greeted them and waved them into the conference room, where the other members were already seated at a long, curving U-shaped table. Among the members present were the other two top Committee officials: The President, Eva Dehr, and her closest advisor, Sade. They were seated at the head of the table, and were busy conversing among themselves. It was unusual for the highest officials to be present on something as simple as this report on what was classified as a routine dig. Knowing what he had found, though, Dune wasn't surprised they were present. If this enigmatic crystal was what they had hoped him to find, then there was indeed a reason for them to be here. Dune had not seen either of these two Committee members in person before, and he looked them over carefully before sitting down.

President Dehr was a firmly built woman in her forties, and still had a very attractive build that she wasn't afraid to show with tight-fitting business jackets and skirts. She had aged very well, and still looked as if she were in her twenties. She was extremely strong-willed and did not mind sharing her opinions with anyone. Most people stayed away from her when they could, but still respected her as a very capable President. It was through her efforts that much of the finishing touches on the cleaning up of society were put into place. She had finally realized what 500 years of struggle had promised. Total peace. This accomplishment early on in her presidency assured her a very long stay as the President of the Committee, and she was fully prepared to take advantage of that position.

As for her advisor, Sade, nobody knew his full name, and nobody really knew how he had gotten so high up in the Committee either. He was always by her side, though, and had been since she became President ten years ago. His look was as mysterious as his history. He had flaming red hair that fell from his head as if it were actually on fire, and his eyes were also a deep shade of crimson. He wore a long sleek trench coat of an unknown material, whose jet black surface shimmered in the bright lights of the conference room. The coat covered almost his entire body, and only his hands and feet could be seen. On his hands he wore gloves of the same material, and his boots also shone with the same black luster. Most people stayed away from him as well, but not for the same reasons they stayed away from Dehr. Sade's presence always seemed to make people extremely uncomfortable and on edge, as if the temperature in the room had just increased dramatically. People who had been in close contact with him always swore that it was Sade himself that gave off the heat, but they couldn't seem to tell from where on him the heat came from or even how hot the room actually was, so they usually passed it off as a trick of the mind. Sade's temperament was the complete opposite of his heated appearance. Sade barely ever spoke more than a few words at a time, and always said them coolly and with complete confidence of the truth behind them. Anyone who had met him could tell that what he was thinking was far beyond the short statements he spoke out loud. The cloud of mystery surrounding him of course provided ample fodder for all manner of wild theories regarding his origin and purpose within the Committee, but none of these were taken seriously. Most people usually considered him a close personal friend of President Dehr who had risen to his position by riding her coattails.

As soon as Dune and the Captain had entered the room and sat down, Dehr and Sade quickly stopped talking and nodded at each other, as if they had come to some agreement over a particularly sensitive issue. Dune couldn't help but think it was him that they had been talking about, and glanced around the rest of the room nervously. He clutched at his pocket as he looked at Sade, and couldn't help but notice that the crystal was even colder than normal, even though the room itself was unusually warm. Dehr and Sade were casually looking at Dune thoughtfully, taking in every facet of his presence. After a couple tense moments, Dehr looked at Sade, and Sade slowly nodded his head once. She then stood up and looked at Dune once again, her face softening almost to motherly proportions.

"Welcome back! You must be Dune Karn, the leader of the Thanas Expedition, and Narsille's head archeologist, correct?"

"Yes, Madam President, that is correct."

Dehr's eyes moved on to the Captain, and then she posed the same question to him.

"And you are Mobius Bismark, head marine biologist of Narsille, and who was assigned to accompany Mr. Karn and aide him in the surveying of the Thanas, correct?

"Yes."

"Well, we have heard quite a few reports about what happened out there, and they are quite interesting..." Dehr gave a curious smile for a brief instant, and then continued, "What I want to find out here is how much of this is true, and how much is misinformation, if you would be so kind. Now, tell us exactly what happened during the expedition. And please, be as thorough as possible..." She made the same smile and then sat down. Sade had the same curious smile on his face.

Dune tried his best to relate everything he had witnessed out in the desert and on the way back to the city, and let the Captain interject his own experience when necessary. Dune did not mention the crystal, and hoped that no one would question him on it. For the moment his promise had been forgotten. The crystal was in control. As the Captain had predicted, the report was a relatively short one, but it seems this came as no surprise to the Committee. Dehr spoke up once they had finished.

"So, the dig was a complete failure, then? You found absolutely nothing? Even after a week of searching?"

Dune shifted his glasses and tried his best to remain composed and in control. "Well...no. The area was extremely inhospitable, and there were no indications of any lifeforms or civilizations there, in the recent past or presently. May I ask what the Committee hoped to find there? It would seem you expected us to find something, or you wouldn't have sent us to a place of such little scientific merit."

Kruz now spoke up from his seat next the President, his tone abrupt, "We had received reports that there was an...artifact...of extreme value in the desert, and that you and Captain Bismark would be the best people to locate it. The reports were from a very reliable source." Kruz glanced quickly to his left, where Sade was sitting and studying Dune with his cold crimson eyes. He had not taken them off Dune since he walked in.

"No sir, I am sorry to inform you that we were unable to find anything in the Thanas desert, even after a week of intensive searching." Dune was determined to keep the crystal. They would not take it away from him, no matter what.

Kruz looked at Dune suspiciously, "Are you _sure_ you found nothing, Mr. Karn? Our reports indicate-"

"So you found nothing, then." Sade unexpectedly spoke up, interrupting Kruz. He didn't seem to be asking a question, or talking to anyone in particular. His eyes were still on Dune.

Kruz stopped speaking instantly, and now all eyes were on Sade. When Sade something, people listened. It seemed that was all Sade was going to say, though, and eventually everyone's eyes moved to President Dehr.

Dehr spoke, taking Sade's comment to be the end of that particular discussion. "I'll take Mr. Karn's word for now, thank you Adam. Now then, what about this storm? You say that a large storm overtook you as you were going to retrieve some equipment, and forced you to turn back to the camp." Dehr looked at another Committee member and they quickly handed her a folder. She opened it up and continued talking while glancing at its contents. "According to our weather charts of the area, there was no storm in the Thanas desert that day, just like every other day there. Are you sure that it was a storm that overtook you? Perhaps the desert had gotten to you and you were suffering from heat stroke? That would explain the fact that this lightning bolt you say struck you did not cause any injuries. What do you say to that?"

Now the Captain stood up and spoke, "No, there was definitely a storm, and a damn powerful one at that. I saw it with my own eyes, and so did half the crew of the Figaro. And Dune was severely injured by the storm. Just look at him and you can see that he is still not fully recovered from it. Ask anyone on board the Figaro and they'll confirm it." He sat back down defiantly, and looked at Dehr unwaveringly.

"Hmm, well the figures do not lie. Take a look at them for yourself if you don't believe me." Dehr passed the folder down the table to the Captain.

The Captain cautiously opened it and studied the various charts and reports inside. As far as he could tell, there really had been no storm on that day. He was thoroughly confused, and scratched the back of his head. He knew what he had seen, and he knew that Dune had barely made it out of the storm alive. He was not going to back down yet.

"I don't care what these papers say. I saw a storm, and so did everyone else on board the Figaro. How do you explain Dune's injuries? Or the destroyed search tower? I think you have a busted satellite on your hands, not a phantom storm."

"We have checked our findings with that of others and they all agree. There was no storm of any kind in the Thanas desert that day or any other day. Now I ask you this, did you see Dune's injuries take place, or the actual bolt that struck the search tower?"

The Captain was a bit unnerved by this unexpected question, but continued to hold his ground. "No, but he was definitely injured while he was out in the storm, and the only thing that could do that to him in the given situation was a massive barrage of hailstones. As for the tower, if it wasn't destroyed by a lightning bolt, then how was it destroyed? Nothing but lightning could cause that kind of damage. Besides, I saw the bolt that struck Dune and heard and felt the one that struck the tower."

Kruz spoke up once more, "We have expert testimony that says that Dune's injuries were not caused by hailstones, and that the tower was not hit by lightning. What do you say to that?"

The Captain did not take these words kindly, and the tone of his words reflected his growing impatience. "Then bring them in! Let me see these 'experts' of yours, if you think their word is better than mine!"

Kruz signaled to a man at the door and he quickly left, and returned a few moments later with two men. It was Dr. Atma and Alex Figaro.

"I believe you have already met Doctor Atma and Professor Figaro?" Kruz said superciliously.

Now the Captain was starting to worry. What would Atma and Alex have to say that he didn't already know? He simply nodded his head and grunted.

Kruz continued, "I'll take that as a yes. These two men have their own eye-witness accounts of what happened, and their fields of study would lend their words more weight than yours, Captain. Am I right?"

The Captain grunted again, pretending to look at the papers in front of him.

"Then let us hear what they have to say, shall we? Dr. Atma, if you would be so kind, could you tell us exactly what the nature of Dune's injuries were?" Kruz finished speaking and sat down, a large grin on his pale face.

Now it was Atma's turn. He had a similar smile on his face and looked like he was going to enjoy discrediting the Captain's words. He glanced at Dune and then started his account. "When I had first inspected my patient here," he nodded at Dune, "I had assumed that he was indeed struck by a large amount of hailstones. I had been in the infirmary while the Captain and Dune were out, so I had noticed no storm during their absence. All I had to go on when they brought Dune to me was that he was caught in a large storm and had been injured by hailstones. I was of course skeptical at first, but a preliminary investigation seemed to confirm their claims and I treated him as such. It was only until after we had arrived in Narsille that I found out what had really caused his injuries. I was on an errand unrelated to the present events, when I happened to come across a past patient of mine whose condition immediately reminded me of Dune's. This patient had also been in the Thanas and his injuries were identical to Dune's. However, I had found his injuries to have been _self-inflicted_. I looked at the patient's chart, and apparently the patient had gone insane while out in the desert and had taken a sharp object he had with him and struck himself with it repeatedly. The patient was unable to give any account of where he had been or what he had been doing, unfortunately," here Atma again smiled his thin, cruel smile, "but I assure you that the source of his injuries was the same as Dune's. Although I think Dune's insanity was only a temporary one, most likely caused by the extreme heat of the desert." He finished his account and again glanced at Dune, and then the Captain, still smiling. His work here was done, the Captain had been made a fool.

Kruz stood up again, still smiling. "Thank you Dr. Atma, that will be all. Well Captain, it seems that there were no hailstones now, were there? Let us hear what Professor Figaro has to say on the state of his search tower, hmm?"

Atma nodded and left, and Alex took a step forward uncomfortably and prepared to speak. Dune and the Captain remained silent, shocked at these new claims. Dune was looking nervously about the room, but his gaze kept returning to Sade, whose own gaze had never left Dune. The room had become unbearably hot for Dune, and he was painfully aware of Sade's red gaze. He convulsively clutched at his pocket, the coldness of the crystal offering him a small relief to the heat. Sade noticed this and smiled to himself.

Professor Figaro cleared his throat and started his own account on the condition of the destroyed search tower. "Well, at first I too had assumed that what the Captain had told me was correct, and from a distance it did seem that the tower had been struck by an unusually large bolt of lightning. Upon closer examination, however, I came to a startlingly different conclusion. It would seem that the tower had been destroyed by a _bomb_, not a bolt of lightning. The bomb had been placed near the base of the tower and had been programmed to go off in such a way that it would appear lightning had indeed struck the tower. I could not find any evidence of what type of bomb it had been, but after carefully analyzing the path of the explosion and the debris lodged in the tower, it was clear that this was caused by an artificial explosion, not a natural one. I suspect the bomb was placed there by the intruder that had been spotted on the Figaro shortly before the explosion in the cargo bay, which had a similar pattern of destruction." Alex looked at the Captain as if to say "I'm sorry" and remained silent.

"And I believe that takes care of that. Thank you Professor Figaro, you may return to the repairing of your vessel now." Alex sullenly left the room without looking at Dune or the Captain again. Kruz continued, his grin always getting wider. "So it would seem there is absolutely no proof that the Figaro had ever been caught in a storm at all. Dune's injuries were self-inflicted, the tower destroyed by the same unknown assailant who destroyed the cargo bay, and the magical lightning bolt that struck Dune causing no physical damage to Dune at all. Also, according to Professor Figaro's workers, there is no damage anywhere on the Figaro to make us suspect it had been in a storm. Surely the hailstones that had struck Dune would have made their mark on the hull of the Figaro as well? And surely if the storm has been powerful enough to destroy the watchtower, other devices on the ship would have been affected? I think you two only imagined seeing the storm. It is obvious that Dune was not in his right mind during this time, and seeing as you were with him, I suspect you were suffering from the heat as well, Captain." Kruz looked malevolently at the Captain, knowing that he had won this debate.

Dune and the Captain looked at each other confusedly. They had no idea what to say to the Committee now. It certainly did seem as if they were mistaken on what had really happened in the desert. Dune remained silent, but the Captain wasn't going to lose without having the last word.

"Hmph! Well it seems you've taken great care to make me look the fool! And a fool I feel at the moment! I'll admit that everything seems to fit together quite nicely. Too nicely, I think." He gave a suspicious leer at the Committee members surrounding him. "That's all I have to say. Let's get on with the meeting then."

Kruz remained non-plussed by the Captain's accusatory stare and sat down confidently, his part in the meeting over for now. President Dehr picked up where Kruz had left off.

"Well, with that little problem out of the way, let us get to the next order of business. The intruder that attacked the Figaro, what happened to him after he escaped? You tracked his signal and were able to recover the lost service module, I presume?" Her manner of speaking was nothing like Kruz's, but still had the same curious tone of confidence in it. She didn't need to be rude and overbearing to intimidate people.

The Captain shifted in his seat uncomfortably, still reeling after the previous argument. He spoke up slowly, gathering his thoughts carefully. This was the part of the meeting he had dreaded and which had been troubling him since he got off the Figaro. "No...we were unable to find the intruder. He somehow managed to deactivate the signal device and was long gone before we could catch up to him. We sent out scouts, but all they could find was the service module about three miles away, destroyed. We couldn't find any indication of who he was or what he was doing there. All we have to go on is his ability to deactivate the signal device. There are very few people who would know how to do that: Me, Alex, and a select few of the Figaro engineers and repairmen. I trust my crew with my life, and Alex trusts his crew the same. It wasn't one of them, I'm sure of it." The Captain finished his account, his confidence coming back to him as he spoke with pride about his workers.

Sade looked at the Captain intently, searching his words and face to see if he was telling the truth. Seeming to be pleased with his findings, he continued drilling into Dune with his fiery stare.

"I see. Then I guess that will be a matter for the NIU to look into, then. Thank you Captain Bismark." Dehr said this with no emotion, and let the problem drop, not seeming to care about the matter at all.

The Captain was surprised that they would let something like this go so easily, but he remained silent and let them have things their way. He was not going to be made a fool of twice. He just grunted and continued to look at the papers absently.

"I think that about wraps up the meeting then. It is a pity that you were unable to find anything, and I am sorry to hear about what happened to your vessel. I look forward to your next mission, and hope you are able to find what we are looking for this time."

Dune suddenly looked up from Sade's glare. "Next mission, Madam?"

Dehr smiled. "Yes, your next mission. Our reports show that the object might also be in another location, and we want you and Captain Bismark to continue your expedition there. We will give you the information you need on this mission as necessary. For now, you are free to go. We will call you when it is time to leave. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter." She stood up and looked around the room, her way of saying it was time for everyone to leave. The other members stood up and shook hands, and then silently left the room one at a time.

Dune and the Captain got up as well, and slowly left the room, bewildered at the way the meeting had went. Neither of them were happy about having to go on another mission so soon. The Captain had wanted to return to his ship, and Dune to his wife, but it seemed neither of these things would be possible now. Dune, his emotions getting the better of him, stopped short of the door and turned to Dehr, who was still sitting with Sade at the head of the table.

"Excuse me, Madam President, but when might we be getting the call for the next mission? I had planned to spend some time with my wife, and I was hoping to do so at the conclusion of this dig. Couldn't you perhaps find someone else to go on this mission?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Karn, it will take some time to get a clear reading on where the other location is, and until then you are free to do as you please. From all indications, you will have at least three months before we call you again. I am sorry this is an inconvenience, but we really have no choice but to ask you and the Captain to undertake this mission."

Now the Captain spoke up, obviously irritated at his forced role in this. "Why us? Why was I of all people assigned to accompany Dune to a desert? I am a sea captain, and I had no business being in a place such as that. Surely mine and Dune's expertise isn't so important that you couldn't find anyone else suitable for these missions?"

"I am terribly sorry, but there really is no one else able to undertake these particular missions. I am unable to divulge the reasoning at this time, but I assure you there is no other way, Captain. Please, do not worry. I am sure the next mission will be better suited to your talents." Dehr gave a knowing smile to the Captain.

"But-!" The Captain was not pleased with this information, and he started to argue, but before he even got a word out Sade stood up and looked at him, his eyes burning coldly. The Captain felt a wave of dread and heat pass over him, and quickly averted his eye and turned to Dune.

"...C'mon Dune, let's get going. We aren't going to get anything else from them." The Captain left and Dune reluctantly followed, his eyes still looking at Sade's until the door was shut. Dune immediately felt a rush of cool air as he left the room, and both he and the Captain breathed a sigh of relief as they left the Committee headquarters.

Back in the conference room, President Dehr was still sitting with Sade. It seemed the meeting wasn't quite over.

"Well, did you confirm it?"

"It is as I thought. He has it. Or should I say, it has him."

"You are sure?"

"Yes, I felt a reaction. It was on his possession even as we spoke."

"Should we detain him? Isn't it dangerous to let him keep it?"

"No, not yet. He does not know what he has. Besides, it will be extremely difficult to take it from him. He is a slave to its will, and will not give it up, even for his own life or the life of others. It is best to let him have it for now. It is as safe in his hands as it is in ours at the moment."

"Then all is still going according to plan?" Has Agent Phantom reported back yet?"

"Yes, he reported to me yesterday. And from the meeting it is obvious they suspect nothing yet. The Captain has his doubts, but he knows nothing for sure. I would like it to stay that way as long as possible. Make sure Phantom isn't as careless next time."

"But can it be helped? We have no control over 'Them', you know."

"Do not worry. 'She' will not intervene on this mission. I will make sure of that."

"How?"

"I have my methods."

"Then I guess everything is taken care of. Shall we get going? It is getting too hot in here for me."

"Yes, it is best I leave for today. Heh, things are going to get interesting from here..."


	12. City of Dreams, 'Guilt Trip'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.6 - Guilt Trip**

Outside the headquarters, Dune and the Captain were standing by a lamppost waiting for the next bus, wondering what had just happened. It was now late in the afternoon, and the sun was casting a deep orange glow across the parts of the buildings above the shadows. Things had not gone at all the way they had expected, and now they were unsure of both where they had been and where they were going. Both of them still fervently believed there had been a storm, even if there was no lingering evidence of it. They were not crazy. Dune was the first to speak up, the Captain having taken the worst of the meeting and still licking his wounds.

"Captain?"

The Captain was busy looking at the ground, thinking over the charts he had read, trying to find a mistake of some kind.

"Hmm."

"Do you believe what they said about the storm? Do you think it's really scientifically plausible that we really went temporarily insane and imagined the whole thing? That I..." Here he faltered, the thought of those horrible wounds on his body being from his own hand being too much for him to admit.

"No, Dune. Something's going on here. My crew saw the storm too. They were right there with me on the bridge, and _they_ were never out in the heat of the desert." The Captain seemed to have come to a firm conclusion on this after meditating on the facts. "We saw the hail too," he added, sensing the worried tone in Dune's last utterance.

"But what about their evidence? What about Dr. Atma and Professor Figaro? Even if there really was a storm, there was definitely something else going on back there in the desert." Dune too was gaining strength from the Captain's own confidence.

"You're right, there's more going on here than we saw. I am willing to trust Alex's judgement and say a bomb destroyed the tower, but that means the intruder was on board for almost a week at least. Maybe longer. Who was he, and what did he want? Dammit!" The Captain's frustration at being unable to find out who had snuck in under his command gave way and he slammed his fist against the lamppost.

"Well what should we do, then? Should we still go on the next mission? Do you think it's safe?"

"Aye, I don't think there's anything for us to worry about yet. There's definitely some shady dealings going on around here, but it seems like they need us, and aren't going to let anything happen to us until they get what they want, whatever that is. I don't like the look of any of those Committee members, Dehr, Kruz...or that Sade fellow. Especially Sade. If we refuse to go on the next mission, I don't think things will look too good for our futures. They'll make our lives a living hell for sure until we agree to do what they want. They've got the power to do it, that's for sure." The Captain seemed almost to be talking to himself, and wasn't looking at Dune while he spoke. After he finished he suddenly did look up at Dune and stared him right in the eye and asked a question that Dune had not been expecting, but had been dreading more than anything.

"Dune, are you sure you didn't find anything out there? I swear you've been acting differently since you came back, and the way that Sade fellow was looking at you the whole time, it's like he knew you had something he wanted and was just waiting for the right moment to leap over the table and take it."

The Captain's piercingly honest stare was too much for Dune, and the crystal couldn't hold back his better judgment any longer. He had to tell the Captain now.

"Well...I...," The words didn't seem to want to come out, but Dune was going to tell the Captain what he found, even if it killed him.

"Yes. I did find something in the desert. I am almost positive it is what the Committee members were looking for. I am sorry Captain for not telling you sooner." Dune felt a rush of relief at finally telling someone about his discovery, but also a rush of dread. Would the Captain ask to see it? To take it?

The Captain remained silent for a moment, digesting this new piece of information. He didn't look like he was surprised, more like dismayed, as if an unpleasant suspicion of his had been confirmed. After staring at the lamppost for a few more moments, he spoke up.

"I thought so. I don't know what you found, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't extremely curious to see what all the fuss is about, but if you kept it secret for this long, and even from me and the Committee, you must have a damn good reason. I won't press you any further. But now the question is what are we going to find on the next mission? If you already found what they were looking for, then what could they hope to find now?"

The Captain saw Dune's confused look and continued, a little more light-hearted than before, "Ah, Dune my boy, don't think you've pulled anything over on the Committee. If I could see something was wrong with you, they sure could. I'm willing to bet they know full well you have what they were looking for. They're just biding their time, I think. Once we find out what our next mission is, I'll be able to say more, but I don't think they are going to try anything until we find whatever else it is they are looking for. We've got ourselves mixed up in something big, Dune. Real big. There's nothing to do now except ride the storm and see where it takes us. Not to an early grave, I hope!"

The Captain let out a grim chuckle and looked up from the lamppost in time to see his bus barreling down the street. "C'mon Dune, I guess it's time to go our separate ways. I'm heading out of the city and back to the wide open sea and my ship. I guess you'll be wanting to go back to Mae? She's probably worried sick about you. Always was a good kid, but I don't think she ever liked the idea of you going out on digs all the time. She seems like the type that needs stability, if you know what I mean." The Captain noticed the fatherly tone his voice was taking and checked himself. "What am I saying, you do what you have to do, right?"

"Don't worry about me or my wife, Captain. She understands my situation. We'll be fine. Thank you for all your support, and I look forward to seeing you again on the next mission. You'd better get moving or the bus will pass us."

"Arrr...yes back to the sea where I belong! Take care of yourself Dune, and don't let those Committee creeps get to you while I'm gone, you hear? If you need any help Alex will still be here, and I trust him more than I trust anyone else alive. Just give him a call and he'll be right up. A friend of mine is a friend of his, you can count on him. Now, it's time for me to shove off. Good luck, Dune!" The Captain shook hands with Dune and he stepped onto the bus.

Dune watched as the bus quickly made its way away from the headquarters and back towards the entrance to the city. Soon the bus was nothing but a dot in the distance, and then it was gone, lost in the flurry of activity that always filled Narsille's streets. Dune started walking back towards his own apartment, which was not far from the center of the city. His mind was heavy with all the new information he had been given, and he desperately wanted to get back home to Mae. He knew she would have a fit over his appearance and the news that there was already another dig planned for the near future, but he would have to deal with that when he got home. He walked with determined steps to his apartment and entered the store on the first floor. He waved at the store owner as he approached the elevator, happy to see his first familiar symbol of home.

This store owner had been here as long as Dune could remember, and always kept a strange pet with him wherever he went. Pets were normally not allowed in Narsille, but the shopkeeper had somehow obtained special permission to keep this creature with him in his store. It was a small round animal with a large red nose and a bright red ball of fuzz sticking out of its head like an antenna. It was covered with soft white fur from head to toe, and had small bat-like wings protruding from its back. It always had an odd expression on its face that made it look like it was always happy. It also always seemed to keep its eyes shut as well, but this didn't seem to impair its vision at all. It gave off the impression that it was extremely intelligent for an animal, and even seemed to have its own language that consisted mostly of variations of a sound that could best be described as "kupo". How much of these sounds where language and how much were gibberish was unknown, though. Dune swore it was one of the cutest little things he had ever seen anywhere, and wondered where the shopkeeper had gotten such an unusual creature. The shopkeeper had refused to tell anyone where he had gotten it, or even what kind of creature it was, but he assured everyone who asked that it was perfectly harmless and very well trained. It did seem to be very well-trained, never needing a leash or any kind of restraint, and no one doubted that it was quite harmless after seeing it.

Dune waved at the small child-like creature as he got on the elevator, and the creature waved back happily with both its paws, its little bat-like wings waving along with its small mole-like claws. Dune smiled at the creature and started the elevator. He had a dizzying climb ahead of him, and settled in for a long ascent. The floor his apartment was on was almost 1000 floors above him, near the top of the tower, and it would take even this fast-moving elevator almost ten minutes to reach the top. He thought to himself what he was going to say to Mae. Maybe he should simply not tell her about the next mission and let her enjoy what little time they will have? No, that would simply be putting off the inevitable. Better to get it over with now and get it out of the way. Should he tell Mae about the crystal? No, of course not. She has no reason to know about its existence. What about his injuries? Tell her it was a storm or...? His thoughts were once again interrupted as the chime of the elevator indicated it was his floor. He slowly walked to his apartment, feeling like he was forgetting something. He knew there was something missing, but couldn't tell what it was. He knew it would come to him eventually, so he just shrugged his shoulders and continued walking towards his apartment.

As he walked towards the end of the hall he passed a window and glanced out. He could just barely make out the sun setting behind the sides of the buildings around him, and could see the tops of some of the more distant buildings skirting the clouds above. He looked down and could see nothing but the walls of the surrounding buildings trailing off to nothing far below. This view was always unsettling for Dune, and at this he quickly turned away and continued down the hall. He saw the door to his apartment and his anticipation started to grow. He was finally going to be in his own apartment again, and he was sure Mae would be waiting for him with open arms, one more time. He stopped and straightened himself out, then walked up to the door with purpose and confidence. He was home.


	13. City of Dreams, 'Home At Last'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.7 - Home At Last**

Dune stood for a moment outside his door, planning his first words to his wife in over a month. After a few half-muttered words, he apprehensively opened the door and walked in, not sure what to expect. Everytime he came home from a dig he always feared Mae would not be there and his worst fear would be realized - that he would be alone. A quick glance around the apartment for signs of life and he was sure Mae had kept her promise. It was a spacious yet simple apartment separated into the main living area, the kitchen, and one bedroom. The lights were on in the main room, as was the television, which was covering the Figaro's return to Narsille. Of course the condition of its arrival had the media concocting all sorts of baseless theories, and Dune was concerned about what Mae had heard in regards to the crew. He cautiously made his way into the room and set his trusty hat and the cane on a rack beside the door. It was then that he remembered what he was missing. He had forgotten his luggage at some point on his trip home from the Figaro. Dune had not taken anything of value with him, and shrugged off his mistake as a minor annoyance to be dealt with later. He figured Mae would chide him for his carelessness, and welcomed her light-hearted annoyance. He continued walking past the television and the scent of a warm meal made its way to his senses from the kitchen. Mae must be in the kitchen preparing his homecoming dinner. A smile broke out across his face at her thoughtfulness and Dune called out to let her know he had made it home safely.

Mae suddenly appeared in the space separating the rooms with a flustered look on her face, her blue eyes full of worry and joy at his appearance. She began to run over to embrace him but stopped short when she saw his battered condition.

"W,what happened to you Dune? Are you alright? You look like you got hit by a train!"

"Lightning, actually. Don't worry, Mae, I'm fully recovered and there are no lasting injuries. Everything is alright now." Dune shifted his glasses, and then attempted to shift the conversation to a more pleasant topic. "But we can discuss my dig in a bit. I've had a very long day, and right now I'd like nothing more than to forget the last month and be with you once more. Is that roast duck I smell?"

Mae wasn't going to give up so easily, though, and flashed a cold stare in his direction. "Don't try to worm your way out of telling me what happened, Dune. You've been on countless digs before, and this is the first time you've ever come back hurt. I've been watching the news for over an hour now and they're saying all sorts of crazy things about what happened on that ship of yours. I hear there was a terrorist on board and that he tried to blow up the ship, and that the crew barely managed to make it back without crashing! And then you come waltzing in here looking like hell, saying everything's alright! I think I deserve an explanation, sooner rather than later."

Dune was taken aback by the sudden outburst and blinked a couple times before responding. He knew he had to choose his words carefully. There were many things he could not tell her, and he didn't want to upset her anymore than he already had.

"Well, for starters, nobody was trying to blow up the Figaro, and the trip back was quite safely executed. You know how the media blows things out of proportion. As for my condition, I assure you I'm fine. There were some unexpected...conditions...at the dig site, and I suffered minor injuries while returning to the Figaro. It is true this experience was an unusual one for me, but it's over now and everything is going to be alright, and that is what's important, right? Now come here and let me see the face I've been dreaming about for so long."

With that he walked over to Mae and gently lifted her face up by the chin. He gazed into her tear-filled eyes and the lingering pain he felt quickly melted away as long-suppressed emotions rose to the surface. The cold stare she had been trying to maintain faltered and she smiled despite herself. Dune softly kissed her trembling lips and pulled her to him, hoping to calm her fragile form. He realized how much pain she too must have been going through in his absence, and wanted nothing more than to ease her suffering. The past few days couldn't have been easy for her with the media mercilessly bombarding her with news on the Figaro's condition and she was finally breaking down after a long cruel wait. She embraced him with equal passion, but no sooner had she put her arms around him and pressed her body against his than she pulled back, uncertain of why.

"What's wrong, Mae? Don't worry about hurting me, I'm not as bad as I look."

Mae looked at him apprehensively, then spoke in subdued tones, "I'm not sure...there's something different about you. You seem distant, somehow...colder. Are you sure you aren't sick? I...think maybe we should just eat dinner and then get some rest. We both need a good night's sleep after today, don't you think?"

"Perhaps you're right, dear. I am feeling very tired all of a sudden. Let's eat and then sleep away this horrid day. I'll tell you all about the dig tomorrow, I promise."

At this, Dune unconsciously raised his hand to grab at his chest, but caught himself and raised it to Mae's face instead. He wiped away a slender strand of jet-black hair from her face, then glanced down at the pocket that contained his burden. The crystal would not be forgotten, or overpowered by Dune's inner passions. Dune and Mae reluctantly let go of each other, then turned to the kitchen to enjoy their first meal together in a month. They ate in strained silence, an invisible barrier being thrown up between them. This was not all the crystal's doing though. Not all of Dune's problems could be blamed on the crystal's influence. He had come home, one more time, but the strain of each mission wore on Mae's patience, and the strain was obvious in that room. Afterwards they gratefully prepared for bed, both hoping the night would wash away both the physical and emotional pain they were each in.


	14. City of Dreams, 'Cold Night in Narsille'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - City of Dreams**

* * *

**Part 2.8 - Cold Night in Narsille**

Dune happily welcomed sleep when it finally came to him. Being in his own bed with his wife by his side put him in a state of ease he had not felt since he left. Something stirred him from his sleep, though. A sudden chill had overtaken him, and he turned to put his arm around Mae and perhaps snatch a bit more of the blanket she enjoyed hoarding from time to time. To his surprise, there was no Mae beside him, and no blanket. He shot up from his side of the bed, a cold sweat quickly spreading over him.

"Mae? Mae! Where are you?"

The panic in his voice was readily apparent, but there was no one to hear him yell. The coldness and sense of emptiness around him were steadily growing more intense, and it was becoming more than he could bear. He struggled to get out of bed and out of the room which seemed to be suffocating him with every staggered breath he took. He fumbled his way across the bedroom in total darkness and slapped the wall where the light switch was supposed to be, but there was no switch to be found. Blindly waving his hand back and forth along the wall, he hoped to find the doorknob and a release from this cold prison that was only a few moments ago a warm respite from the pain and isolation he had thought was over. The familiar form of the doorknob met his cold grip, and without thinking he thrust the door open and desperately yelled out for Mae one more time, his worst fears seemingly materializing right before him.

"Mae! What's going on, where did you go? Mae, I need you-Ah!"

The second Dune had opened the door, a frigid blast of wind from behind forced him to his knees, his hand clutching his chest in a vain attempt to grab more air from his lungs. Instead of his lungs though, his hand grasped the crystal still hidden within his clothes, and its painful coldness shot through his body, chilling him to the core. The cold wind continued to blow from behind, as if all the air in the room was being sucked out through the doorway. Deprived of all warmth and strength, Dune fell forward lifelessly into the next room, but his body never hit the floor. There was no floor, or room for that matter. Dune tumbled out of time and space and spiraled helplessly into the void, slave to whatever force had beckoned him here. All logical thinking was at a standstill for Dune, and he was too weak to even try to comprehend what was happening to him.

After what seemed like an age had passed, Dune felt something growing around him. The infinite vastness of the void around him was slowly being replaced with a stifling closeness. The space he was in seemed to be contracting, becoming denser, more tangible. It was becoming harder to breathe again, although there didn't seem to be any air to breathe in this place. Dune felt as though it was not only the space around him that was contracting, but himself as well. He tried to look around and make out what was happening, but there was nothing to be seen, heard, or felt, except the ever-present coldness that pervaded this world. Dune had never felt so alone in his life, and the only thing on his mind was where Mae had gone and whether she was safe or not. He cried out to the nothingness that was creeping ever closer to his soul, hoping for any kind of response.

"Is anyone out there? Help me, please! I can't take this anymore. Mae help me!"

There was no answer from the void, and Dune's fear was giving way to frustration and anger. The space had become excruciatingly close and it seemed that if Dune didn't do something soon, he would be swallowed up by the collapse of this emptiness upon itself.

"Answer me, dammit! I know you're out there, whatever you are. If my death is what you want, then you can have it! I won't give you the satisfaction of watching me suffer any longer! This is obviously some wretched attempt at punishment, when I have done nothing wrong. Who is doing this? Is this the Committee? Sade? Leave me be! The crystal is mine!"

With that final futile cry of anger, Dune raised his fist into the space around him, and to his surprise hit an invisible surface. It felt as smooth as ice, and just as cold as the emptiness around him. Scrambling to determine the dimensions of this new entity, he soon found it completely surrounded him. Even worse, it seemed to be getting closer and closer, ignoring his presence within it. Now Dune was beginning to lose control. The only thing worse than being trapped in a void of infinite nothingness was being trapped in a void of infinite closeness. He let out a scream of agony at the overwhelming helplessness of it all. And his cry was answered by a chillingly calm voice that sounded more like a death knell on a cold winter morning than any human voice he had ever heard.

"It won't do you any good you know."

The sudden curt response to his pleas stunned Dune into silence. With bated breath he waited for the voice to return. The voice was the sound of death itself, but it was still a presence in the unwavering solitude, and Dune couldn't help but feel a wave of relief. For better or worse, he wasn't alone anymore.

"Nothing else to say? No more anathemas to throw at me? Is that feeble attempt at a curse the most potent venom you humans possess? I made a much more valiant stand when I was first imprisoned here. Pitiful child."

Now Dune was lit with a cold fire that seemed to be emanating from the unseen entity before him, and yet at the same time from within himself. "Who are you? Why have you brought me here? I will not give you the satisfaction of my screams any longer. Either answer my questions, or leave me to endure this place as I see fit."

The voice returned, with a hint of laughter hidden beneath the mournful rasp, "Very well, human. I see you do not understand your situation yet. The crystal you try in vain to control. Gaze upon its surface and tell me what you see. I will be waiting."

Curiosity at this odd response temporarily overcame the cold fury that was threatening to take Dune, and he obliged the voice. The crystal was still safely resting in his shirt, still putting forth its own cold aura that seemed to compliment the more intense aura of the void. Dune slowly took the crystal in his hand and looked at it, not expecting to see anything but the blackness it always shined with. The first thing he noticed is that it no longer felt cold to his touch. Dune assumed he had gotten accustomed to the coldness of this place and that the crystal's coldness had stabilized with the rest of the void. He cautiously peered into its unforgiving blackness, at first not seeing anything. Slowly a shape started to take form, deep within the blackness. It looked like man, but distorted somehow. It looked almost bestial in form, demonic even. It had two cruelly curved horns protruding from a lion-sized mane of thick white hair that hung down the back of its heavily scarred and tattooed body in a single long lock. Dune looked closer and with a sudden realization of what he was looking at, flung the crystal away from him. His own reflection!

The moment the crystal left his hands, it hit the clear surface of the invisible cage ever closing in on him and shattered into a thousand infinitesimal pieces. No sooner had the crystal shattered into oblivion than Dune felt his body being pulled from every direction. It was all he could do to stay conscious in the face of this new pain. He struggled to see what was going on around him, but all he could see was the same blackness as before. He shut his eyes to the darkness and waited to be broken by the forces at work on him. The air around him felt like it was being stretched and pulled just as he was, and what sounded like faint groans of stress seemed to be slipping out of the surrounding surfaces that still enclosed him. At the last possible moment of pain Dune could endure, the pulling stopped and Dune suddenly felt like he was falling, or perhaps being thrown down. Very fast. Before he was aware of what was happening around him, what was happening found him. A cold hard surface met with his face with astounding force and pain, but Dune did not seem to be any worse off than he was a moment ago. He opened his eyes slowly and steadied himself against this newly found ground. When he looked down, he could once again see his reflection in what appeared to be a sheet of ice. To his immense relief, he no longer looked like the monster he had seen in the crystal. He let out a laugh at this, the first happy occurrence that had happened to him in this place. The laugh reverberated throughout the surrounding area almost endlessly, and for the first time Dune got an idea of the size of the place he had fallen into. He looked up from the ice and was taken aback by the world that met him. As far as he could see in every direction there was a vast lake of ice, and try as he might he could not find any remarkable features in it except for a pale glow that seemed to rise from the surface like a fine mist. The lake was perfectly flat and clear, with no end to its cold, heartless perfection. Dune looked up above him, but the total blackness that had previously consumed him was the only sight that met his weary eyes. He grimaced at the sky and lowered his view to the horizon, and was once again left speechless with what he saw towering in the distance.

Far off in the distance, perhaps a mile, perhaps a thousand miles, a monstrous shadowy form rose up silently from the pale, perfect sheen of the frozen lake. The faint glow seemed to gather in strength the closer to the form it got, as if that was the source of the cold light that filled this empty plain. Dune struggled to make out the shape of the form, but could only tell it was immeasurably large and exuded an overpowering will that could be felt even as far away as he was. Whatever it was, it was definitely alive. With the reckless abandon of a scientist(or a madman), Dune boldly stepped forward and tried to address the form. Before Dune could utter a word to the lone inhabitant of this realm, though, a harsh blast of freezing air hit him hard in the face, lifting him off his feet and high into the air, and then threw him to the ground face-first with almost as much force as he had landed originally. Dune lifted his face off the ground and desperately tried to regain his footing, but it was no use. As soon as he managed to stand, another merciless blast of air forced him to the ground. After several vain attempts at standing, Dune decided to try and crawl towards the distant form. At this, the harsh voice returned and echoed all around Dune, seemingly pleased with the current flow of events.

"That is right, crawl to me, child. Humility is a lesson you must learn before all else in this place. For what it is worth, I welcome you...to Hell."

Rather than be afraid at these ominous statements, Dune simply continued to crawl forward with the same perseverance as before. Such nonsense of Heaven and Hell had left Dune's thoughts long ago, when he solidified his belief in science and logic. Even here in this place he refused to give way to the delusions of a weak-minded sheep, as he usually thought of the people who followed such illogical fantasies of gods and magic. Wherever he was, it wasn't Hell, of this he was sure. Nothing was going to stop him from confronting the only hope he had of discovering the truth of where he was and what was going on, even if he had to crawl on hands and knees to get those answers.

"Good. I see you take after my own heart. You have already cast aside the irrelevant fears and fancies that consume most mortals. The powers that be care nothing of you, so why should you acknowledge them? Come to me, Dune. Come and meet your Doom."

Ignoring the taunts and threats, Dune continued to make his way to his newfound adversary. Through endless stretches of the frozen wasteland he crawled forward, never losing sight of the form in front of him. As he moved closer to his goal, he was able to make out more of its true form. Its size was truly immense, far larger than any living thing Dune had encountered or studied. Dune estimated that it was at least several hundred meters across at its base, and its summit was at least a mile above him. Its shape and composition seemed to defy any logical description, but Dune was intent on trying to bring some semblance of logic to this place, even it was only in his mind.

Unless he was much mistaken, the entire base of the creature seemed to be connected to the frozen lake, or perhaps trapped in it? As he got closer, the composition of the base became clearer and clearer. It was definitely connected to the surface of the lake, and at first glance might be confused with a mountain base, but there was one distinct and disturbing difference. The entire base seemed constructed of a single complex mass of bone. Not human bone, or the bone of any creature Dune could identify, but whatever it was, it was definitely skeletal in nature. There were various processes and crags jutting out from the main structure at distorted angles, with a crystalline mist thickly flowing from some of them like blood. This must be the source of the pale haze that covered the lake. The sight of this macabre scene was the first time Dune had felt a sense of dread at what he was facing, but this did not stop him from continuing his trek.

Above, Dune could just barely make out an equally impressive body rising from the skeletal mount. It was a deep shade of dark blue-black, like a corpse that has been exposed to extreme cold for far too long. The specifics of the body were still obscured by distance, but from where Dune laid, he could just barely make out six appendages that could only be arms, each one folded across the massive breadth of the creature's cold blue chest. It seemed this foe was patiently waiting for Dune to struggle to its base, basking in the sense of superiority it gained from driving Dune towards it like a common beast of burden.

Above the main body he could sense the first signs of movement from the form since he arrived. There appeared to be two massive, sleek wings spreading out into the distance on either side of the creature, as far as his eyes could see. The wings looked like large golden bat's wings, but were frayed and tattered along the edges and full of small holes, looking very much like they had been left to decay, much like the rest of the creature's appearance. The wings were slowly batting the air around them, and Dune concluded that these incredible appendages must be the source of the icy winds that had continued to hound him whenever he slowed or stood. Sensing Dune's studious gaze and momentary halt, the wings sprung to life and furiously spanned out to their full length, then retreated back to their original position with equal malice, sending a powerful gust of air towards Dune and flattening him against the cold glassy surface once more. In defiance, Dune spat onto the ice before fully raising himself to the ghastly apparition and pressing forward.

Once Dune had made it within a few dozen meters of the monstrous base, he could feel the presence of the beast bearing down on him even more strongly than before, and craned his neck back as far as he could without standing to catch a glimpse of the face that could possibly belong to such a hideous conglomeration of defilement. What Dune saw was the face of Death itself. The head was not a skull, but far too decayed to still considered being alive by any mortal standards. There were no eyes, but where they would have been were four gaping black holes emanating the same fluid-like blue mist that Dune had seen at the base. There didn't appear to be any identifiable mouth, nose, or ears, but the level of decay made it impossible to discern one orifice from another. Deep scars were etched across the face, barely recognizable among the rest of the defilement. The only expression that could be sensed from the marred face was one of mute defiance to everyone and everything. The epitome of arrogance.

As soon as Dune dared to look up into its face, the creature openly growled with a malevolent force that Dune could not stand against. He instinctively lowered his head to the ice and covered it with his hands, awaiting a strike from one of the six arms for his impudence. But nothing came except another heartless blast from the wings and after a moment Dune lowered his hands and warily completed the dark journey to his Doom. Upon finally reaching the base, Dune attempted to address the being once again, his anger at being so humbled showing through his words.

"Here I am, my self-proclaimed Doom. I have braved your humiliating taunts and cold, lifeless breath for the answers I seek, so give me what I ask! Why am I here? Where is this place, and who or what are you?"

Dune heard the hollow voice echo throughout the wastes once more, but could not sense any reaction from the mountainous being before him. "Impudent child! Here you stand looking into the very face of Doom and yet you still find the breath to mock my words? Greater beings than yourself have been humbled to silence by my stature alone. All of them I destroyed utterly in the end. Or would you prefer I send you headlong into the farthest reaches of this frozen tomb, only to climb back to my feet, to be my amusement for all eternity? To destroy you now seems like a waste of good fun. What do you say to that, mortal?"

Dune paused for a moment, seemingly unfazed by these words. Similar words he had heard before and it had all turned out to be empty threats from a dreamworld. Dune was beginning to suspect that this too was merely some hallucination brought on by fatigue. Whatever the truth was, his heart was filled with a cold defiance that he cold not explain, and he continued to press the being for answers.

"Your threats mean nothing to me, Doom. I suspect you are trapped here as assuredly as I am, which means you are powerless to hurt me in any way that matters. Now answer my questions, and maybe I will show you the respect you think you deserve."

Doom let out a long, cold laugh at this taunt, and retorted with equal coldness, "You learn quickly, child. I am beginning to see why the crystal chose you as its emissary. Your cold calculating indifference will be your undoing, as it was mine. You will make an excellent pawn in the coming game. Perhaps more than a pawn by the end. Very well, I will tell you what you want to know. Be warned that knowledge is one of the few gifts that can not be taken back once received. You will do well to remember this before you demand such rewards from my kind in the future." Doom stopped for a moment and let out what seemed to Dune like a sigh of regret.

If Dune hadn't known better, he'd have thought at these words Doom almost seemed to harden himself against a painful memory locked away in the eternal recesses of his past. It seemed impossible, but Dune almost felt sorry for the creature. These thoughts quickly subsided when Dune remembered the road he had been forced to travel here.

After a moment of quiet reflection from both sides, Doom resumed his speech. "This forsaken realm you see around you is my prison, my Hell. Cocytus it is called by those that give names to such things. I was banished here from before time began by my fellow brethren, who abandoned me for the greater good, or so they say. I believe you have met one of them already. He is known as the Master of Earth, and it was he who fashioned my place of banishment. I once held a similar title as he. I was known as the Master of Ice. That was another reality ago, though, and I now have no need for names. I have since fashioned this place more to my essence, and used its properties to draw strength from the power of Earth that still flows through it. The time is coming when I will be able to break free from this prison, and it is _you_ who will allow me to do so."

While Doom had been speaking, Dune listened incredulously. He could scarcely believe the things this creature was laying claim to. They went against all scientific thought, and Dune refused to give them any credence. If Doom knew him so well, surely he knew his words would never be believed. On the other hand, this was the first explanation Dune had been given on the events that had been happening to him, and he was curious as to what part he was supposed to play in this vile creature's escape. Doom gave Dune a moment to take in his words, then continued, as if he was reading Dune's thoughts.

"You don't have to heed my words yet. The time will come where you will be forced to choose between worlds, and only then will the stage be set for my rebirth and revenge. Until then, the aura of the crystal will make sure you do my bidding. It is only in the deepest dreams of mortals that we are allowed to express our true might, so when you wake you will be free from my powers, as you suspect. But do not wane in your fated role, for the gravity crystal that you possess is one with my spirit and will bend you to my will at the slightest faltering of your own, weak as it is. Do not fail me, my Emissary of Doom..."

With those final prophetic words, the form of Doom began to shrink from Dune's sight and Dune could feel himself being pulled away from the lake of ice. A last cold blast of air escaped from the prison as Dune lost sight of the creature and after a brief moment of disorientation Dune was once again lost in total darkness. A sense of warmth greeted his face, a sensation he had all but forgotten, and suddenly Dune was aware of a presence beside him. He turned himself over and saw Mae sleeping soundly beside him. He leaned over and kissed her, stirring her to life.

"What was that for, Dune? I thought you just wanted to get some sleep?"

"Nothing, Mae. I'm just so happy to see you by my side. I was worried I'd never see you again. I love you. Good night."


	15. For the Lovers, 'Field of Battle'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

_One of the oldest works of literature to survive to the present day is the epic opera known as 'The Dream Oath," or simply, "Draco and Maria." Whether the events portrayed in the opera are real or fictitious is unknown, but it has garnered immense popularity over the centuries, and has become a national treasure of the Jidorikan people. It is not surprising that the oldest work of fiction on record has its home in this region. Long has this country been a haven for playwrights, artists, and musicians. But if this ancient rhyme is any indication of the truth, the relatively quiet rule of the current aristocracy belies a bloody history of civil wars, forgotten in the greater wars that came after._

-From _Regions and Cultures_, by Cid del Norte Margeuz, 1000 PW

* * *

**Part 3.1 - Field of Battle**

Far away from the peacefully slumbering city of Narsille, a savage and hopelessly one-sided war is raging between two countries. Despite Narsille's best efforts, the entire world is not a single perfect united society. The Committee's reach can only go so far, and there are those who are not yet happy to give up their power to another, even for the sake of world peace. East Jidorik is one of those countries. A final strike against the much smaller and less powerful neighboring country of West Jidorik is currently under way. If all goes according to plan, West Jidorik will be wiped off the map by sundown. Many of the West Jidorik soldiers have already been slain or fled, but there is still one faction of brave souls who are intent on fighting to the bitter end, and giving the Easterners a fight that will be remembered in song for generations to come...

"Dammit, where are the reinforcements! We're being slaughtered like lambs out here!"

"Don't worry, they'll be here. Just be patient, the General knows what he's doing. We'll make it through tonight and see at least one more sunrise, I promise."

"...I guess you're right. I trust the General with my life. If he says we have a chance, I believe him. I've seen him come back from worse battles than this. I've never seen a finer soldier, or human being for that matter. It's just that we're so hopelessly outnum-look out!"

A sudden explosion rocked the front lines and the two soldiers were thrown back several meters into a nearby ditch where the bodies of their fallen comrades were being lain. Bodies broken, neither of them could move, and they both knew what was in store for them. Gunfire continued to rage over the heads, and the screams of war could be heard coming closer. Intermingled with the death throes from their fellow soldiers were the war cries of the Eastern Army, making its final assault on the camps of the West. In a few minutes it would all be over and the West would be defeated. Both soldiers knew the end was near, but they refused to go down without a fight. They had seen this war together from the beginning, and they were going to see the end together as well.

"I think this is it for us, friend. Both my legs are broken, and you don't look too much better. How long have we know each other out here? Six years? God, it feels like it's been forever since I saw my wife and child. I guess now I'll never see their smiling faces again. For all I know they're already dead. I heard from the higher up's that the East has started firing their missiles at the outlying territories and that many homes have been already destroyed. Aliya, I'll see you soon..."

"Hey! Stop talking like that! We're going to get through this, you'll see. Listen, you can still move your arms, right?"

"I...I think so."

"When the soldiers come marching past us they won't be expecting any survivors lying here in this ditch. Just look around...the stench of blood is everywhere, and I can see at least ten of our comrades' bodies piled in here. This may be one of our death pits, but I bet we can add at least a few Easterners to the pile before they make it across." At this he halted, giving one last moment of silence for the fallen around him. Their sacrifices would not be in vain.

After a moment, the second soldier spoke up in disbelief, "You can't be serious! There must be a hundred troopers above us. we'll never make it out of here alive!"

"Just grab that sword over there and hack away at them as they cross over us. I still have a few bullets left in my gun, so I'll cover as best I can. Hah, we'll give those Eastern scum one last surprise from the West!"

With that, the two warriors steadied themselves for the last stand of the West, or so they thought. The sickly crunching of boots on bone could be heard approaching them as the East marched across the path of flesh they had cleared with the explosion. It wouldn't be long now. Sword and gun in hand, the two men readied themselves for the kill. Their breathing was staggered, but silent; their weapons poised for the coming carnage, each with a cold death grip. In this pit of death, the two would have passed for corpses as surely as the men beside them. One lone drop of sweat streaking down the nose of the gunner was the only sign of movement from them. The enemy was excruciatingly close now. Muscles tightened and senses heightened. The killer instinct was fully awake now. The drop of sweat hit the ground with a deafening crash, then a flash of metal overhead and the trap was set.

With one deft movement, a glowing blue blade rose from the unseen darkness and two Easterners fell with a cry of surprise, their legs hewed at the knee. Before the others could react, gunfire erupted around them, and the battalion scattered, fearing an unseen counterattack. In the confusion the sword found many easy targets. It sung with glee as it bit into the flesh of three more unsuspecting victims who had wandered within range. It wouldn't be long before the Easterners figured out what was happening, so they had to make every strike count now. The swordsman had managed to crawl out of the ditch using the bodies of his victims as a ladder, and was carefully hacking at the legs of anyone foolish enough to mistake his prostrate form for a benign corpse. The lone gunman had stayed behind, hidden in the ditch, watching his prey like a sniper for any signs of recognition amidst the chaos. The moment someone noticed his ally's ruse, he would fire a carefully aimed shot into their temple, quickly silencing them and allowing the game to play out a little longer.

Over twenty men had already fallen to the well-executed ambush, and many of the rest had broken rank and scattered. The two soldiers where quickly depleting their last surge of power, and both knew they each only had a few kills left in them. Hiding in the shadows would do them no good now. Within minutes the enemy had realized where the attack was coming from and started to reorganize, although they would never have believed it was merely two badly injured foot soldiers keeping their entire battalion at bay. Knowing the game was almost up, the swordsman summoned the last ounce of his strength and reared himself up to take out the commander of the troops, who had entered the fray to try and regain order.

"_For Aliya!_" he shouted with a vengeful howl as he rose up from the earth like a specter from the grave. The commander whipped around, shield in hand, just in time to block a ferocious slash from the swordsman that would surely have cut him in two. The swordsman held his own for a few rounds, but the commander was the superior fighter and in better condition, and soon held the advantage. Before the swordsman could make his third strike, the commander swung his shield arm and let loose a vicious blow with the shield's face, knocking the swordsman to the ground from whence he came. He raised his sword high into the air to deliver the stroke that would end this bloody conflict once and for all. The blade began its descent, but was quickly halted as a bullet ricocheted off the hilt, the sting of the blow momentarily numbing the commander's hand. That was the gunman's last bullet.

Their fury spent, the two soldiers all but collapsed where they lay. The commander had recovered his posture swiftly, confident that the last of this miserable rabble had finally been defeated by the superiority of the East. He arrogantly swaggered to the fallen swordsman, his own sword in hand, and spit in his face.

"So this is how the West ends its days. Cowardly hiding among its dead, vainly lashing out in wretched desperation. I will put an end to your suffering here and now, you miserable cur. Feel the Might of the East! - Augh!"

A powerful blow from behind separated the commander's head from his neck, cutting his words short. His body unceremoniously slumped to the ground, a pool of blood welling around the cleanly severed head and body. Behind him a man, clad in shining gold armor and wielding a huge sword that looked as if it were made of solid crystal, stood silently, a look of disgust on his face at the unworthy opponent he had bested. At the sight of their commander's death and the grim figure of the gold-clad man, the remaining soldiers fled in terror and the battlefield was emptied of all but the three final bastions of the West.

"Never turn your back on your enemy, fool. Did you really think I'd let you get away after that cowardly retreat from our fight? That was for Piette and Nida. My friends, you have been avenged." The man stood for a moment in quiet retrospect, then knelt and carefully wiped the blood from his sword, sheathing it with equal care when he finished. The swordsman struggled to move his head to get a better look at his savior.

"G..General...you came..."

Surprised to see the battle-torn soldier still conscious, the gold-clad man stopped his kill-ritual and addressed the soldier.

"Hey, you there, are you alright? I thought for sure you were dead. Here, take my hand."

"I'm afraid I can't stand, General. Just...leave me here...I'm of no use to you now. My friend...over in the ditch..."

"Hmm, there's another one of you here? Ah, yes I see him now. I caught a glimpse of the show you put on while chasing down that fiend. You two are quite possibly the bravest men I have seen in my long career as a soldier. I would be humbled to learn the names of the two noble warriors before me."

"Wedge, First Rank Ground Assault, sir. My friend over there is Biggs, First Rank, same as me. It is...an honor..." The strain of speech had sapped Wedge of his last ounce of strength, and he was washed away into the silent sea of unconsciousness.

The general leaned over and whispered into Wedge's ear, "No, it is an honor to serve with such fine men as you, Wedge and Biggs. I, Draco Christophe, General of the Western Allied Forces, will make sure your struggle is not forgotten. We will see the end of this war together."

With those words, the general lifted Wedge onto his shoulders and walked over to where Biggs was already passed out. He lifted the badly wounded comrade onto his other shoulder and solemnly walked off the battlefield, the red sun slowly falling behind him, bathing the ravaged field in the blood-red hue of a dusk that promised one more sunrise for the weary West.


	16. For the Lovers, 'The Dragon of the West'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.2 - Dragon of the West**

Draco raced across the outskirts of the battlefield, the limp forms of Biggs and Wedge shaking in his firm, but gentle grasp. He knew he didn't have much time before the East's troops returned from their cowardly flight, and the Western base camp, although nearly emptied, was the only safe place left now. He may have been able to fend the soldiers off and make his escape by himself, but it was impossible to keep his two newfound charges away from harm at the same time. He would not leave them behind to die, or worse, captured and tortured by the enemy. Draco knew all too well what the East did to its prisoners, and he would sacrifice himself to the enemy before allowing any of his men to meet such a cruel fate. These disturbing thoughts were quickly put aside as Draco saw a large forest looming into view a few paces ahead of him. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickened his pace.

The forest where the Western base camp was situated soon stood before him, a thick tangle of roots and deadwood blocking any large assault from the enemy. The forest itself was a natural barrier against invading forces, and this was precisely why the West had chosen it as their last line of defense. With the stealth of a cat Draco darted into the dark underbrush, vanishing from sight. He knew the secret paths that allowed safe access to the camp, and carefully checked his back to ensure he wasn't being followed. The worst thing he could do at this point is allow the enemy to discover the paths to the base. The base was the last bastion of his forces, and with its fall there would be nothing standing between the East and the Western capital. Draco was determined to not let the East have their way with the capital so easily. More than the city itself, his love and bride-to-be was waiting for him there. To let the West fall would be to fail his love, and allow the despicable East to have their way with her as well. At this thought Draco shuddered in rage, and cursed himself for being forced to retreat.

"Swine of the East! I will pay you back blood for blood, tears for tears. You will rue the day you awakened the Dragon of the West!"

With these words, Draco looked up into the starry sky, the two moons shining through a clearing in the forest canopy. The sky shown with a comforting coolness that stilled the fires of vengeance burning in Draco's chest. He knew that somewhere his one true love was looking at those same stars, wondering what fate had befallen her hero. Was she safe? Was she waiting?

"Oh Maria, please hear my voice in your heart, and know that I long to be with you. It will not be long now before we embrace once more. I pray that you are unharmed, for my life would be forfeit without you. Everything I have done, I have done for your sake and for our child. The world he is born into will be a safe one. I swear on my life!"

Draco winced back tears as he said this oath. He had learned of Maria's pregnancy shortly before leaving for the final confrontation of the war, and often dreamt of the time when he would be able to hold his child in his arms instead of his sword, or the bodies of his men.

A gunshot in the distance stirred Draco from his thoughts, and reminded him of the imminent danger he was in. The East had regrouped and was scouring the countryside for signs of Draco's escape. There was sure to be a hefty reward for the capture of the West's great hero-general, and Draco knew that there would be no mercy shown to him if he were found. His fingers grasped the two bodies on his shoulders tighter and he continued to struggle against the weeds and vines that blocked the obscure trail beneath him. If only he could use his sword! That would mean leaving Biggs and Wedge behind, though, and Draco's noble mind would never allow such an action. For now the Scion, the heirloom of the Christophe line since time immemorial, would remain sheathed.

Another gunshot, this time much closer, rang in Draco's ears. The enemy was getting closer to his location. They must have picked up his trail outside of the forest and were sending out warning shots in hopes of flushing Draco out of hiding. The enemy soldiers would be able to catch up to his location with ease, thanks to their swords. Draco knew this and prayed to whatever gods were listening to allow him safe passage to the base camp. The burden of the two warriors in his arms weighed heavily on both his body and mind. No, he had promised to see the end of this war with them, and a knight always keeps his word, especially on the battlefield. Promises made in the heat of battle were forged with the blood of fallen allies. To break a war pact was the height of dishonor to all those who had given their lives to their country. Draco would never be able to stand the sight of himself if he betrayed his word or his men. It was this unwavering devotion to his fellow man that had endeared the general to his troops so completely, and they to him. If there was any love that could compare to his love for Maria, it was his love for his fellow man and for peace. The road to peace was paved with the bodies of those who had refused to fight for it, though. In times of war Draco had been forced to raise his weapon to the injustices around him, continuing the way of the sword that had been passed on through his family line for generations.

The shouts of enemy trackers and howl of wolves could be heard now, causing Draco to grimace. That unearthly howl heralded his inevitable capture. The trackers of the East, known as the Red Fangs, were near-legendary in their ability to hunt down prey. The Red Fangs were so named due to their use of a beast by the same name. The Red Fang was a monstrous wolf bred specifically for the hunting down of the East's enemies. Their crimson red fur struck fear into the hearts of all who saw them, even when they weren't hunting. The bloodied backs of the beasts reminded all of their fearsome power just under the surface. In the middle of a hunt, no one dared catch sight of the fell creature, for as surely as the wolf could be seen, the unhappy victim would have already been detected by its infallible eyes. These creatures also had a cruel poison hidden within their saliva, and anyone bitten by a Red Fang was driven to madness within minutes, making capture all the easier.

Draco knew all the gruesome details of the foe behind him, and was faced with a dilemma. Escape was still possible if he gave up Biggs and Wedge, but if he stayed his present course of action all three would surely be torn to shreds by the Red Fangs, or worse captured. The impossible choice had to be made here and now. It seemed to Draco that no matter what he decided, the regret would hound him for the rest of his life as surely as the Red Fangs hounded him now. The choice had to be made though, and the leader's instinct he had honed over the years told him he couldn't abandon his men, or his honor. He would stand his ground and fend off the Red Fangs as best he could in hopes of the three of them being taken alive. Capture left hope of escape and revenge, however slight. There was no hope beyond the doors of death and dishonor, though. With this in mind, Draco strengthened his resolve and carefully laid the bodies of Biggs and Wedge on the ground beside him. He quickly scanned his surroundings and within seconds determined the best course of action against the coming adversaries. From the howls he judged there were four of them, and at least as many trackers behind them. The trackers did not concern him, though. If all went according to plan, there would be no fight with them, and Draco, Biggs and Wedge would be captured without harm.

Another howl, dreadfully close to his position, set him on guard for the approaching assault. With one last look to the stars, Draco steadied himself and slowly unsheathed the proud Scion, magnificently glimmering in the moonlight. The Dragon of the West was awake and fully prepared for what he knew would be the true final desperate stand of the West.


	17. For the Lovers, 'Last Stand'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.3 - Last Stand**

A mix of growls and snarls could be heard crashing through the forest growth only a few meters from the clearing where the Dragon patiently waited. It would only be a few more moments before the battle began. He was glad he was able to make it to this place before being caught. He needed his eyes for this battle, and the moonlight afforded him equal footing with the Red Fang's superior nocturnal vision. This would be a true test of his skills, for no one had stood their ground before a pack of Red Fangs and lived to tell the tale. With the sobering odds in his thoughts, the Dragon tightened his grip on the Scion, then closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Battle was as much mental as it was physical, and clearing one's mind of all distractions was an important part of winning any fight.

Without warning all noise in the forest stopped, and the Dragon knew the game was on. He listened intently, eyes still closed, trying to gauge the last known position of the growls. His eyes shot open at the same instant a blur of red charged out of the brush and straight towards him. The Dragon had measured his foe well, and a blur of gold rushed to meet the oncoming blur of red. A pale blue glow quickly appeared between the two forces, and with one subtle movement the blade of the Scion was on a direct intercept course for the gaping maw of the Red Fang. A short yelp was all that was heard as the Scion sliced through the jaws and neck of the beast, killing it instantly.

Before the Dragon could regain his footing, two more blurs of red dashed into the clearing, just out of sight. He knew they were there, however, and knew what they were planning. Biggs and Wedge made easy targets, and the first strike was merely a feint to lure the main threat away from an easy kill. In one smooth stream of carefully calculated movements, the Dragon pulled his sword from its victim and spun around, the extended blade swinging with him. The blade flew from the Dragon's grasp, now a deadly missile homed in on its next victim. No sooner had the blade left his fingers than the Dragon was in motion, quickly following its path with equal precision. Before the two Red Fangs could reach the bodies of Biggs and Wedge, the Scion had plunged itself into the back of the furthest beast, and less than a second later the Dragon's armored bulk crashed into the closer one. A cry of pain went up from the impaled Red Fang, and it frantically ran in circles, trying to bite at the lethal dart in its side. The Dragon grappled with the other trying to use the massive bulk of his armor to pin it down to the ground as well as protecting himself from the wolf's poisonous bite. The creature was too enraged to be subdued so easily, though. The two combantants exchanged positions repeatedly as they vied for superiority, neither making any gains. If only the impaled Red Fang would come a bit closer in its blind agony, the Dragon could retrieve his weapon and the higher ground. For now, the unhappy creature was keeping its distance, letting out mournful howls into the night as blood poured from its wound and splattered onto the ground. The smell of blood seemed to invigorate the wolves, and the Dragon felt a new strength arise in the form beneath him. A new disturbance in the surroundings now reached the Dragon's keen senses, and he soon realized what it was, and that the real fight had begun.

A massive form suddenly crashed into the clearing, then let out a blood-curdling growl, almost a roar. It was the fourth Red Fang, only it was nearly twice as large as the others, and had a crazed look in its glowing red eyes. This must be the alpha male, the leader of the pack, attracted by the smell of blood and the cries of its allies. The leader usually only joined the fray to deliver the killing blow, allowing the lesser wolves to do the dirty work on unworthy foes. The monster's gaze quickly fell on the Dragon struggling with its brother on the ground, and rushed head-on towards the fight. With one momentous leap the creature was in the air and falling towards the two fighters. Its jaws were wide open and a stream of venomous spittle trailed behind it. Even armor would not provide protection from the incredible force of the alpha Red Fang's bite for long. The Dragon knew what to do, though, and with a quick heave to the side allowed the Red Fang below him to temporarily gain the advantage. Or so it thought. Before either beast realized what had happened, the jaws of the alpha male had sunk deep into the other's backside. The teeth had met flesh, and in the frenzied state the beast was in, whose flesh it was did not matter. The traitorous dog ripped the spine clean from its hapless victim's back, and with one last spastic convulsion, the prey's limp form ceased all movement. Unaffected by its mistake, the alpha wolf tossed the carcass of its brother aside and made for the prize beneath.

Meanwhile, the second Red Fang continued to struggle to free itself from the crystal spire sticking out of its back. It was no use though, nothing could pull the blade from so deep an impact. The creature gave one last gasping howl, then slumped down to die, a slight whimper still echoing from its fast fading form. The Scion, now stained a deep red, loomed over the body like a gruesome tombstone.

Only a few steps away, the struggle raged on between the alpha Red Fang and the Dragon. The first bite had glanced off the thick armor of the Dragon, causing the now lone alpha Red Fang a moment of confusion as its teeth rattled in its head. What was this strange hide that could withstand the unstoppable pressure of its jaws? Never had its bite met such resistance, and rarely was a second attempt necessary. The creature's brief disorientation allowed the Dragon a window of opportunity to break free from the fight and regain his footing. With a terrific push, the distracted beast's bulk was thrown to the side and the Dragon rolled over and onto his hands, pushing himself up with as much force as he could in the direction of the now dead second Red Fang. He staggered on hands and knees towards the corpse with as much speed as his still off-balance position allowed. Before he could make it to his feet the alpha Red Fang came to its senses, and lunged with barred teeth at its wily prey. The Dragon strained all his limbs to try and reach the sword and pull it from the dead form beneath. Just as his hands grasped the hilt, the alpha Red fang crashed into his side with the force of a boulder and knocked its target forward and into the air. The Dragon's grip on the sword remained strong, though, and the momentum of the blow had not only sent him flying, but had dislodged the sword from its deathly mount as well. The Dragon sailed through the air helplessly at first, but soon regained his sense of direction. With the grace of an acrobat, the Dragon turned his body in midair and pointed the sword at the ground, both hands tightly gripped on the hilt. The end of the blade plunged into the ground, and allowed the Dragon to steady himself and land without injury or loss of balance. He stood up, and quickly grabbed his side in pain. A large dent could be seen in the armor where the alpha wolf had collided with him, and it appeared the impact had broken several ribs. Pain was only an illusion, though, and the Dragon shrugged it off with contempt. He freed his sword from the ground and leveled it with the beast in front of him, now charging its prey once more. He eyed the coming threat carefully, knowing this adversary was more worthy than the first, and would not fall so quickly.

With a clash of fang and metal the two foes met head-on. The Scion caught the massive Red Fang in the mouth, doing only minimal damage to the wall of gleaming red teeth. Seemingly unaffected by the strike, the wolf slashed furiously with its equally sturdy claws at the weak point it had created in the Dragon's hide. After a few swipes a large hole had been ripped into the armor, and the Dragon was exposed. Seizing the opportunity to taste flesh once more, the beast lunged forward and knocked the Dragon onto its back. With a decisive second lunge the creature made for the hole in the armor with its mouth. The only thing it met was the red hot tip of the Scion, though. Learning from his first blow, the Dragon kept the pressure on and forced the blade down the monster's throat past its teeth. A fount of blood spilled out of its throat along with a gurgling shriek of pain and the Red Fang cowered back away from the blade, fear appearing in its eyes for the first time.

The fight wasn't over just yet, though, and before the Dragon could launch a second assault the creature unexpectedly turned sharply to the left and made for the bodies of Biggs and Wedge. It would not go down without killing at least one of its targets. The Dragon saw the creature turn and run towards his defenseless allies, and could only think of one thing to do. The wolf sped away with incredible agility, but the Dragon managed to sink his sword deep into the creatures hind quarter just in time to be yanked forward and dragged behind the retreating foe. He struggled to mount the fearsome steed in order to try and steer it away from his friends, but the painful wounds were driving the creature into a frenzy. The Dragon made one more attempt to climb onto the creature's back, and just barely grasped a thick clump of filthy red hair before being thrown down again. He pulled with all his might and swung himself on top of the Red Fang's back, then quickly placed the back of his blade against the bottom of its lower jaw and pulled back as hard as he could. The maddened beast's head gave a painful jerk upwards and then it stumbled and fell, both rider and steed tumbling together just inches from the bodies of Biggs and Wedge.

The Dragon was the first on his feet, and raised his sword to deliver the finishing blow to this defilement of nature. Before he could bring the blade to the creature's already injured neck, it shuddered and leaped to its feet, a look of pure hatred in its eyes now. Why wouldn't this accursed thing fall to its bite? How could such strength come from such a small form? Why was it losing?

The creature made one last drastic lunge at its hated enemy, focusing every ounce of its strength into a bite that would rip even the Dragon's armor to shreds. The Dragon barely had time to react to the rush, and swung his body to the side just in time. The beast's fangs grazed the armor and the Dragon felt a searing pain as a strip of armor and flesh was ripped from his body. The creature had managed to wound his foe after all, and soon he would fall to the Red Fang's poisonous taint. The victory was short-lived, however. The foolish creature had left itself exposed after that desperate move, and the Dragon took full advantage of its moment of weakness. As soon as the wolf's mighty form had passed him, the Dragon struck out and let his blade fly at its unprotected legs. With one clean slice both hind legs of the creature were cut from beneath it and it tumbled to the ground for the last time.

The Dragon could already feel the dizzying effects of the poison overpowering him, and he knew it would not be long before he succumbed. He must finish the beast now and hope that the trackers would simply take him and his friends to their base until they awakened. With quickly fading senses the Dragon raised his blade once more to the beast and this time there was nothing to stop the inevitable doom that awaited it. The creature looked up at the approaching death strike with a piteous glare, stunned that it could be bested by a single small foe. With one last whimper the blade met the beast and for a single sickening moment both were one. It was over.

The Dragon's job complete, he struggled to pull his blade from the beast, but was too weak. With one last cry, barely above a whisper, he fell to the ground, and joined his fellow warriors in an uneasy sleep filled with poison-soaked nightmares.

"Maria..."


	18. For the Lovers, 'The West Falls'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.4 - The West Falls**

"Draco..."

"Maria? Am I dreaming?"

"No, but you'll wish you were soon."

The sound of harsh laughter brought Draco to his senses, and with a painful realization, he knew he was in the hands of the enemy. He struggled to stand, but a swift blow to the stomach sent him reeling towards the ground. Before his body hit the floor he jerked to a stop painfully, his arms straining against the chains that bound him to the wall above.

"So, the mighty Dragon of the West has fallen. Any last words?"

Another harsh kick to the fallen knight's side and he coughed up a thick stream of blood. The wounds from the previous fight still had not healed completely, and his cruel captors were taking full advantage of them. Still, Draco's mind was in full effect, the poison slowly beginning to dissipate from his veins. If he could just endure this torture and get the information and time he needed, escape was still possible.

"Biggs...Wedge...where are they?" The words came out slowly, the growing pool of blood in his mouth making speech difficult.

"Dead. We killed them in the forest. They were just two worthless grunts. You're the real prize."

Draco coughed again, this time spitting a well-aimed clot of blood onto the shoes of the closest captor. He raised his head and looked the captors in the eyes, a blood-stained grin appearing on his face.

"You're...lying. Not...your style."

He eyed the three men before him, studying their faces for signs of weakness. One of them was a large overweight man with bulging muscles just beneath the ripples of fat. Thick patches of hair covered the portions of his arms and chest that were exposed. His face had a glazed look on it, and a slight gleam of madness shone from his eyes. He didn't have much hair on his head, except for a thick stubble that seemed to rise almost to his eyes. He had a malicious grin on his face, showing his misshapen and half rotten teeth. This was the one delivering the blows, and he seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. Draco could tell just from the look in the man's face that he wasn't too bright, and his main purpose here was to do the unpleasant physical parts of this meeting that the others were too squeamish to perform. He had heard of men like him from his fellow soldiers. Beaters.

Behind the Beater was a somewhat smaller man, but still well-built. This was the man who had done all of the talking so far. He was much more well-kept than the others, but still had the same look of malice in his eyes. He was wearing fine robes and looked like a member of the Eastern nobility. He seemed rather young for this gruesome task, no older than his mid-20's, but Draco figured hate was something the East instilled into their people as soon as possible. Unlike the Beater, he didn't seem to be enjoying himself, and seemed to almost regret having to be present. It seemed his sole role was to talk to Draco and convince him to spill all the secrets of his forces to them. Draco knew of his kind as well. Mediators.

The last man was the one Draco had spit blood onto. He was as filthy as the Beater, and didn't seem much brighter. He didn't seem to have the build for physical torture, or the brains for mental torture, but he had the same look of hate the others shared. Draco was unsure of his role in the interrogation, but he was sure he'd figure it out soon enough. The unknown man looked down at his shoes and smiled, seemingly not affected by the blood. He spoke up now, his voice as harsh as his laugh.

"Doesn't matter if we are or if we ain't. You'll never see 'em again, that's for sure. This rat-hole is going to be your grave, hero."

The grating laughter returned, and Draco struggled once more to stand, his anger rising. A third blow from the Beater quickly stifled his attempt.

"Don't learn too quick, do ya? You're our prisoner, see? We make the rules, and your life is in our hands. Give in to our demands, and ya might live. Piss us off and...," at this the harsh-spoken man put his finger to his neck and ran it across like a knife, replete with sound effects.

"Yes, Prince Ralse could make good use of a soldier such as you, even if you are a bit of a punk. Learn some manners and you could do well here."

Draco couldn't help but utter a weak laugh at the Mediator's reply.

"Hah...I will never help you...the West will not...be betrayed by me..."

The Beater delivered yet another blow to Draco's face, silencing him with pain. At this the Mediator spoke up, having had enough of this torture for the moment.

"Enough! Leave him to stew for a bit. Give him a chance to realize where he is and that he is in no position to play games with us."

The Mediator looked over his battered prisoner with disdain, then turned and left the cell, motioning for the others to leave as well. The harsh-spoken man was the last to leave, and took the opportunity to spit at Draco's feet before slamming the door shut. Draco was alone now - no light, no hope, for the moment.

On the other side of the door, the Mediator confidently strode down a sparsely lit hallway, quietly laughing to himself. His two cohorts dumbly followed him, obviously not in on the joke.

"Ah, what irony. The poor fool doesn't even realize where he's at. Heh, I guess it's not surprising. He doesn't seem like the type to visit even his own dungeon. Prince Ralse will be pleased with this bounty indeed. You two! Stop lagging back there. I'm sure there are other prisoners who could use your...talents. Get back to work!"

The two henchmen quickly backed away and disappeared down seperate branching paths, leaving the Mediator to present his prize to his superior. He continued to stride down the hallway, ignoring the branching paths to other prison cells and headed straight for the large iron doors seperating the dungeon from the more pleasant areas of the castle. Once through these doors the castle immediately felt much more lively and warm. A brightly lit corridor led out from the iron doors, and after a short flight of stairs, the Mediator entered a wide open room filled with the rich symbols of regality. The high walls were lined with portraits of high nobility and busts of kings, and the floors with red satin carpets with gold trim. The Mediator looked around him with disgust, the various images of past kings seeming unpleasant to him.

"Old men, your time is over now. Soon these vestiges of the past will be torn down and a new line of rule will be put in place. The West should have seen the hopelessness of their fight sooner and surrendered. Maybe then they would have saved some of their history. Now no one will remember them, forgotten in the tides of war."

The Mediator looked away from the various images on the walls and continued his path through the room. He walked straight down the wide room and stopped in front of a large golden door with what looked like the twisted body of a serpent rising from the floor and wrapping itself over the archway and down the other side. A closer look revealed it was actually the abstract form of a dragon, with the wings spreading out above the doors, and the head positioned at the pinnacle of the doors, between the two wings, its mouth open in a ferocious snarl. Two guards were positioned in front of the doors and crossed their spears at the approaching Mediator.

"I'm here to see Prince Ralse. I have secured the West's top general and wish to report my success to His Majesty immediately. Let me pass!"

With a flourish of the Mediator's robes he presented an official document stating his purposes for seeing the prince, and the guards opened the doors to the royal chamber. The chamber was as large as a ballroom and at the moment was filled with many important looking dignitaries. Dozens of delicately hanging chandeliers lit the room, each one sparkling with myriad crystal candles. The portraits of past kings were even more pronounced in this room, some life-sized, some small enough to fit in a man's pocket, all painted with a level of skill unmatched by the artists of the East. The West was renowned for its artisans, and had focused on that skill for hundreds of years, instead of war. It was this weakness that the ever battle ready East had so easily taken advantage of. The floor of the hall was home to a rich red carpet filled with many intricate designs and symbols, all seeming to make up a beautifully woven story of love, war, and peace that covered the entire expanse of the room. At the end of the room sat a large throne, and in it a young man, smugly grinning at his newfound position while he talked with one of his advisors. He wore a copper-toned robe with many glimmering sequins, each one reflecting the lights of the chandeliers above. His hair was a greyish-white, and was wrapped into a tight bun around his head. Like most of the royalty of the East, he wore the traditional wig of the nobles. This was Prince Ralse, the tyrant ruler of East, and now West, Jidorik.

The Mediator brushed past the throng of people with an air of superiority, carefully looking away from the floor and walls. He quickly approached the throne where the prince sat and bowed his head, eager to give his liege the good news. The Prince paid him no heed, and continued to talk with his advisor for a few moments.

"Tell my dawdling father that there were no problems taking the Western stronghold like he predicted. He concerns himself with problems best left in the history books. Now is the time of gunpowder and technology, not swords and spears. His antiquated war strategies are best left in a corner collecting dust. I wish he would realize that is the best place for himself as well. Why can't he just accept death and let me rule without his annoying commentary?"

"Forgive me for being frank, sire, but His Lordship ruled over East Jidorik for nearly fifty years, and in that time we never once needed to resort to violence to settle our differences with the West. There was always tension, but he always managed to keep all-out war from breaking out. Your father deserves a bit more credit than you give him."

The Prince let out a loud barking laugh at this. "Hah! My father was blind, and only grew moreso with age. He didn't see the wealth of the West before him, or the threat of the North behind him."

"Threat of the North? You can't honestly mean Narsille? They have been devoted to nothing but peace for over a century. Surely you aren't planning to launch an attack on them? They are the most advanced nation in the world! We would never be able to make it past their front gates!"

"Narsille may put on a face of peace to the outside world, but I know the truth. They are just as much a warmongering nation as many claim me to be. The time is coming when they will show their true face, and people will see my rule in an entirely different light. I am the only ruler left in this cowardly world who is unwilling to yield to the apparent invincibility of the North. Conquering the West and uniting Jidorik once again is the first step in my plan to stand against Narsille. Why won't those mindless peasants realize that? I, for one, will never submit my authority to those cave dwelling were-rats in the Committee. If my father was still fit to rule, this realm would already be under Narsillian jurisdiction. I will die before East Jidorik is turned into East Narsille!"

"Yes sire..." The advisor gave out an exasperated sigh, letting the prince have his way for now. There was no point arguing with Prince Ralse when he talked of war. The only thing on his mind since he was a child was absolute power over his nation, and later all nations. Now that he had accomplished his first goal, the only thing left was the world. With no more fuel for his rantings, the Prince settled back into the smug inspection of his newest acquisition. Unlike many of his peers, Prince Ralse was able to appreciate the fine workmanship of the West over the dismal grime of the East. Upon entering the kingdom he immediately decided it would be his new seat of power, and that he would make everything within it his own.

At this pause the Mediator felt it was prudent to announce his presence, and did so with a polite clearing of his throat. Ralse looked up from his musings and glanced at the Mediator with the air of moving from one distraction to another.

"Well, well, well...if it isn't the High Mediator's son, Daschel. What brings you to the gates of the West? I thought you despised this place? Good news, I hope?"

"I bring news of the successful detainment of the West's great General Christophe, sire. My trackers were able to locate and capture him three nights ago outside the Glastok woodlands. He has just now regained consciousness after suffering a bite wound from one of our Red Fangs..."

Prince Ralse excitedly interrupted Daschel, eager to claim the last prize the West had kept from him. "Excellent! I was afraid your brutal methods would deprive me of the pleasure of meeting him face to face. Where is he? I wish to see him immediately. I have a few things I would like to discuss with him." The prince leaped out of his seat and stood in front of Daschel, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"Right this way, sire."

Daschel quickly led his liege back to the prison cell where Draco was being kept. Unlike Daschel, Prince Ralse took in every facet of his lush surroundings, seemingly in awe at the superb skill of the West.

"It's simply exquisite, isn't it Daschel? So many beautiful things here. So many indeed..."

"I wish I could share your love of the Western culture, sire, but all these gaudy images offend my eyes. I will be happy to return to the Eastern capital in the morning."

The Prince simply continued his train of thought, the lack of enthusiasm from Daschel not hampering his own in the least.

"How is the Lady Maria? I hope she is comfortable here. She is now my Queen, afterall."

"Sire, she will never truly accept her new role, as long as General Christophe lives on within her. You are aware she is carrying his child?"

"I am well aware of her lack of servility and the burden she carries. She will come around in time. As for her child, dispose of it as soon as it is born. I will not have the bastard son of that man for my heir."

"I will make sure your will is carried out sire." Even as Daschel said this, he was surprised at the ruthlessness of his liege. Prince Ralse's hatred of the rebel general must run very deep, indeed.

"Everything that was the West will soon be under my domain, even Maria. After the ceremonies tonight, my rule will be solidified. For now, I simply wish to receive her lover's blessing, among other things." The Prince let out a cruel laugh and motioned for Daschel to quicken his pace. "Hurry!"

Once the two had reached the door to Draco's cell, Ralse stopped Daschel and motioned him away.

"I wish to speak to him alone. I commend you on your capture, but the pleasure of interrogating this one will be mine. I will see you at the coronation tonight. Now leave me to my prize."

"As you wish, sire." Daschel was more than happy to leave this task to Prince Ralse. He preferred the more respectable role of being Mediator in high profile public trials, not crawling through dungeons.

Ralse slowly unlocked the door and entered the dank cell where his rival in both love and war waited for him.

"Ah, General Draco Christophe, I presume? It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Allow me to introduce myself..."

"...Ralse..." Draco finished Ralse's introduction without emotion, his head still hanging down and eyes hidden from view. He knew the infamous iron-hearted general-prince of the East all too well. He knew Ralse cared nothing for peace, only power and control. He knew also that Ralse had had his eye on Maria since long before the war. Maria had once before turned down his proposal to marry him, and instead chose a man of lesser stature, Draco.

"I see you know of me. Good. I am Prince Chad Ralse, heir to the throne of East Jidorik, and now de facto ruler of West Jidorik."

At this Draco lifted his head, a look of disbelief in his eyes, a fire lit in them at the suggestion that the West had fallen.

"Lies. The West...would never submit to your rule."

"Without their glorious general to lead them, Glastok Bastion fell within hours. It was pathetic really. The capital city surrendered a few hours after that. You should be happy - you are home, after all..."

"...?"" Draco's eyes began to narrow at the realization of where he was at. He stared at Ralse in stunned silence.

"Yes, that's right. Look around you. Surely you recognize your own stockade?" That glint of malice Draco was used to seeing was before him once again.

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. The West defeated? The war...over? Had his struggles been in vain?

"Impossible...the king would never..."

"Oh, yes, you're quite correct. The stubborn old goat refused to give up his kingdom to his dying breath. My sword relieved him of that charge, though. Your king is dead, your kingdom overthrown. What will you do, General?" Ralse was enjoying taunting Draco immensely. Once Draco realized the war was over and he had lost everything, he would capitulate to anything Ralse asked, he was sure of it.

Draco needed more time. All this was too much for him to take in at once. He needed to remain in control and not let his emotions get the better of him. He was playing a dangerous game now that Ralse was involved. Ralse was no ordinary soldier. He was cold, cunning, and unforgiving. Despite his disdain for out-moded warfare, Ralse still had a skill with the sword that rivaled Draco's best men. He knew losing his temper would mean losing his last chance at escape, and possibly more. Draco suspected that was exactly what Ralse wanted. He would humiliate Draco, then kill him.

Ralse could sense the waves of indecision passing through his prisoner, and knew it wouldn't be long before he broke the great general. Now was the time to deliver the blow that would cripple the warrior. He just needed to wait for the signal from Draco that was imminent now.

"Nothing to say, General? That's alright. I can wait. You must surely need time to take in the position you're in."

After a few moments, Draco's mind began to clear and one overwhelming fear pervaded his thoughts. Maria.

"Maria...what have you done with her?"

Ralse's eyes lit up at the mention of Maria, and he knew now was the time for the final blow to Draco's ego.

"Do not worry, she is safe. She is my bride, now. You should have been here for her, Draco. She has long since given up on your safe return. Now she wishes nothing more than to be my Queen and rule by my side."

"More lies." Draco struggled to remain composed. He knew in his heart Maria would never give up on him, no matter how long he stayed away. Until his broken body was laid before her, she would never stop believing in his safe return. Ralse was just baiting him.

"Oh no, she was more than happy to join me. In fact, tonight is the official coronation and wedding. There will be a grand ball in honor of our union. Regretfully, you will not be able to attend the festivities."

Now Draco's thoughts turned to the safety of his child. He knew Ralse would never stand for his rival's son taking the throne and he feared what measures Ralse would be willing to take to ensure his line continued unbroken and pure.

"And my child, what will you do with him?"

"Kill him." Ralse said this without any hint of pleasure or displeasure, as if he were merely stating a fact of nature.

At this Draco couldn't help but reveal a hint of the fire that was slowly growing within him. He stood up and looked Ralse in the eyes, staring him down with the cold glare of the Dragon, but could say nothing. Anything he said now would definitely spell his doom and the doom of his child.

Ralse was expecting this reaction, but even he was not prepared for those piercing green eyes. The Dragon of the West was indeed an apt title for this man. He faltered for a moment, but quickly remembered his position and sneered at the feelings of hatred he had stirred within the noble spirit. Yes, this would do for now. A little more torture like this, and perhaps Draco could be bent to serve him. The safety of his child would be an easy price to pay for his services. But not now. He had said what he wanted to say, and instilled the hatred that would eat at the general for many long nights to come. If the general could withstand the mind-sapping tortures in store for him, he would be a fine soldier for the coming battles against greater foes.

"I think that will do for now. I have matters I must attend to before tonight. I merely wanted to meet the legendary hero-general of the West before I took everything he cared for from him. I suspect you will be a mere shell of your former self soon, and it would be a shame to have never seen the Dragon of the West unbroken for myself. It was a pleasure..."

With that Ralse turned and walked out of the dungeon, leaving Draco to mull over the painful revelations he had brought him. The two brutish men from before were now standing outside, waiting for him.

"You two, stay with him and make sure he doesn't escape. I am not taking any chances with this one. There must be no interruptions during the ceremonies tonight. And do not harm the prisoner any more than you have to. Consider your lives forfeit if anything happens to my 'friend' back there. His life is worth more than both of yours. Remember that."

The two men nodded in acknowledgement and entered the room, while Ralse quickly made his way out of the dungeon. The ceremony would begin in a few hours, and much needed to be done to ensure everything went as planned. Tomorrow, Ralse would have everything he had dreamed of.


	19. For the Lovers, 'The Star of the West'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.5 - Star of the West**

Draco's mind flitted between the truths and half-truths Ralse had told him, struggling to filter out what was real. His head ached at the seemingly hopeless situation before him. One thing he knew for sure, though: he had to escape tonight. Soon his love and his kingdom would belong to this vile man, and he could not let that happen.

On the other side of the castle, another prisoner mulled over similar thoughts. A beautiful woman sat in her dressing room, preparing for a moment she had dreaded and hoped would never come. Her clear blue eyes twinkled with tears, each one a perfect orb reflecting the stars outside her open balcony. Framing her eyes, her long blonde hair fell to the floor like strands of sunbeams, the curls and waves reflecting light like a new day rising. To complete the heavenly portrait, her milky-white skin glowed in the darkness with a pallid sadness that seemed to compete with the twin moons' own mournful auras. She was in every aspect a celestial body, and her name was Maria Chere, known as the Star of the West to all who beheld her.

With trembling fingers she attempted to fasten a blue ribbon to her golden hair, the dreaded ceremonies making even this mundane task near impossible. She knew Ralse must be lying about Draco's death on the battlefield. She swore she could still feel his heart beating with hers. The war had ended, though, and Draco had never returned. Maria began to fear the worst may perhaps be true and broke down into quiet sobs, fearing for her future, and the future of her unborn child.

A knock on the door interrupted her dispair, and an elderly man dressed in the thick, extravagant robes of the West walked in and bowed briefly before addressing her.

"My Lady, the ceremonies have begun, and you must prepare yourself for the opening dance. I understand your feelings about the East, but it is not wise to upset Prince Ralse. Please, come with me."

"Leave me, Chancellor. I wish to be alone a bit longer. Tell Ralse I will join him shortly. I...need to get a breath of fresh air first. There is too much commotion going on in the castle these days, and I am feeling light-headed. I will be out on the balcony if you need me. Please, grant me this one last chance...to say good-bye."

"As you wish, My Lady. I will be waiting in the hallway."

Maria thanked the Chancellor and nodded at him to leave her. Once alone, she numbly stood and walked over to the balcony as if in a trance, her heart leading her where her mind refused to go. She stopped on the lower teir of the balcony and looked out over the gloomy treetops of the Glastok woods spread out before her. Where out there was her love? She slowly began to walk forward to the upper level, lifting up her voice as if in song, and cried out into the night, praying for the gods to hear her plight.

"Draco, my hero, you seem so far away from me now. Will I ever see your smile again?"

Maria fondly clinged to the last memories she had of her love, right on this very spot. He had went away into the fading night and left with the coming day, his smile the last remnant of their love in her now fading memory. That moment seemed like a dream to her now, as night once again came to the West, and the darkness spread over Maria.

"Without you I feel so empty. I am nothing more than this darkness now, and you were the stars that filled the void of my lonely heart. Our love burned brighter than the sun, do you remember?"

More memories of Draco came flooding back to her as she cried out. Memories of the long talks they had in the moonlight about Fate and Destiny. Memories of their eternal love, as if they were chosen for each other by the gods. Memories of the solemn promise they made to never leave each other's hearts, no matter what fate befell them. Must she forget these things now?

A cool wind blew threw Maria's hair as she stepped up onto the upper balcony, causing her to shiver with cold. The only thing she wore was a thin silk dress that had been made especially for her wedding to Draco. Tears once more started to flow from her eyes, and she tried in vain to hold them back. She cursed herself for her weakness, and continued her lament.

"This cold autumn wind seems to pull the memories of the warm springtime we last spent together straight from my chest. What am I supposed to do? Draco...I'm lost without you. Please, speak to me once more!"

She once again remembered the night Draco had asked her to marry him, the very night he left. He had invited her up to the balcony and playfully asked her to dance under the moon and stars with him. The Dragon was as graceful a dancer as he was a fighter, and Maria blushed as he held her close to him and led her step by step. They circled to and fro under the stars for what seemed like hours before he quietly brought a beautiful bouquet of vibrant red roses from under his cape and laughed.

"Maria, my love, let us pledge our eternal love right here, under these stars. I leave at dawn, and I must know you love me with all your heart before we part. Marry me, Maria. Unite with me here, tonight. Let us show this entire world that our love will never fade!"

Maria closed her eyes as she vividly recalled that night. Silently, subtly, without realizing where she was, she began slowly retracing her steps around the balcony, pretending her lover was in her arms, just like that night. She took the phantom bouquet of roses from him, and walked up to the farthest ledge of the balcony. She stood motionless for a moment, reality slowly and painfully coming back to her.

As she opened her eyes to harsh darkness before her, a shooting star raced across the heavens. She imagined it was Draco's spirit, saying good-bye, and as the Dragon of the West arced across the sky, she threw the bouquet up to him, hoping he would catch it and come back to him.

The star faded from view, and the bouquet also vanished from Maria's sight as her senses fully came back. She weeped for the loss of the only joy that had been her life for so long, and despair entered her mind.

"We must part now, my love. My life goes on, and I must forget these foolish fancies of the past. But...my heart still won't give you up, no matter how hard I try."

With doubt entering her mind, Maria turned to leave the balcony and fulfill her new role as Queen. Her heart wouldn't let her give up on her hero just yet though. Before she walked away, she made one final oath to the heavens.

"Draco! I only wish to hear you say I meant as much to you as you meant to me. So gently you touched my heart that night. I will forever be your bride. Come what may, I won't age a day. I will still be the woman you left standing here, waiting for you always..."

Maria closed her eyes once more, anguish and despair overcoming her. For a moment she thought of throwing herself from the balcony and ending everything. Feelings as though nothing was left in this cruel world for her to live for flooded her mind, and at that moment all she wanted was to be with Draco. Maybe this was the only way...

As if to answer her plea, another star blazed across the horizon, leaving a sparkling trail of dust behind it. A ray of hope suddenly fell onto Maria's troubled soul, and for a moment she swore she had heard Draco's voice cry out to her from the darkness. She quickly collected herself and decided to live, and keep living, not just for her sake, but for her child's. She would protect him and raise him to be just like his father, a constant reminder of the brave Christophe line that would live on through him.

As she was turning away from the balcony, the Chancellor rushed up to her, a look of concern on his aged face.

"Lady Maria, Prince Ralse is growing most impatient with your absence. He demands your presence as his partner for the dance. I understand how you must be feeling, but you must leave the past behind and embrace our new rule. The rest of the kingdom is adopting the spirit of the East, and it would do the citizens good to see that you are as well. I am sorry for your loss, but you have been given a rare opportunity to guide the kingdom. Ralse has always been quite taken with you, and I am sure you can help to turn his mind and heart to better ends. You are the Star of the West, My Lady, and no one can deny your pure-spirited desire for peace long. Now, come with me, the Prince awaits."

"Yes, I have been selfish, Chancellor. You are right, as always. I must focus my energies on bringing this realm to peace, as Draco would have done. I promise to build the world he always wanted for his child, even if I must do it through that vermin, Ralse. I am ready now. Let us be off."

With thoughts of her lost love still echoing through her mind, Maria bravely stepped forward into the future, determined to create the world her betrothed had fought for with the same undying conviction he had shown.


	20. For the Lovers, 'Glimmer of Hope'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.6 - Glimmer of Hope**

Back in the castle's dungeon, Draco hung silently, trying desperately to think of some means to escape. The two men stood in front of the door without moving or saying a word, glowering at him. Draco closed his eyes, and let out a sigh of frustration then slumped down, knowing that he could never get past those two in his condition, even if he was unchained. Sensing Draco's motion, the smaller man that Draco was unable to identify addressed him with his harsh tongue.

"You're a real piece o'work, ya know that? No one's ever done what you did to my babies. You're lucky I didn't tear your goddamn guts out for that."

Draco now realized who this man was. This man was the lead Tracker that had sent the Red Fangs after him in the forest. He should have recognized immediately from the stench of blood that rose from him. Perhaps if he taunted the man he could make him let down his guard. It was a long shot, but he needed an opening, and as long as both men were in control of themselves, they were in control of him. Draco's strength had gradually been returning to him as he sat and meditated, and now was the time to summon that strength. Now was the time to make his move. He straightened himself up as best he could and looked at the Tracker with his cold green eyes.

"Your dogs weren't much of a fight, really. Not very smart either. I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did."

At this the Tracker motioned to the Beater and he walked over to Draco and hit him right where the alpha Red Fang had bitten him, causing Draco to gasp in pain.

"Hm, don't seem like they did too bad to me, now does it? I'd say they did a helluva job messin' you up. You're s'posed to be some great warrior, ain't cha? Don't look like much to me from where I'm sittin'."

Draco laughed and continued to try and taunt the man, hoping he would let down his guard, perhaps even unchain him in his self-assurance.

"I'm more of a warrior than you at least. You sit back and let your dogs do all the fighting for you. Even now, you rely on that brute there to do your dirty work. What's wrong? Too afraid to strike me yourself?"

At this the Beater raised his fist to strike Draco again, but the Tracker held his hand up and the Beater stopped, his fist still in the air. The Tracker walked over to Draco and took out the key to his chains. The Beater looked at the Tracker dumbly, wondering what was going on. His job had always been a simple one: If a prisoner gets out of line, hit them until they shut up. No questions, no talking, no mercy. True to his credo, the Beater did not ask any questions, but simply obeyed the Tracker and stood behind him like a watchtower.

"Got quite the lip, don't cha? Let's see how tough you are, Dragon. Without your sword or fancy armor, you're nothin'. You, Beater! Make sure no one's comin'. I'm gonna have me a little fun. The boys'll love it when I tell'em I beat the great General Christophe! Hahaha!"

The Beater cautiously opened the cell door and peered out, while the Tracker foolishly unchained Draco and let him drop to the ground. At first it seemed the Tracker was going to have his way with the weakened Draco like he suspected, but the Dragon was a dangerous foe, even when injured and cornered. Perhaps even moreso...

"Now it's time to pay you back for my wolves! Let's see how you like the taste of my boot!"

The Tracker raised his boot to kick Draco in the face, but with lightning speed Draco's hands shot out and caught the man's foot as it approached and twisted it back in one sharp turn, breaking it. The Tracker fell forward stunned, but before his head hit the ground Draco's hands moved to the sides of his face with equal speed and lethality. With a loud snap, the man's neck was broken, and his lifeless body fell to the floor next to Draco. The Tracker's stunned face peered out at Draco, the look of malice still hanging on, even in death.

This sudden reversal made the Beater turn his head from the open doorway, but for a moment he just stood there, looking at Draco. Without anyone to give him orders, he was unsure what to do. He was told explicitly to not hurt the prisoner more than necessary. So what should he do now that the prisoner was free?

Draco didn't plan on giving the dumbstruck Beater a chance to catch him while he was on the ground, and with some effort got to his feet. This one would not be so easy to fell, and he knew he needed to outsmart him, not overpower him. Draco stood shakily in front of the Beater, and waited to see what he would do. Just beyond him was the exit and his road to Maria and Ralse.

Not knowing what else to do, the Beater blindly charged Draco hoping to grab him and subdue him. The massive girth of the Beater lurched forward like a tree falling, and even in Draco's condition it was easy to avoid the lumbering giant. The Beater clumsily maneuvered around the small prison cell, hoping to grab the much faster Draco, each near miss aggravating him more and more. With a little luck and timing, Draco managed to get between the Beater and the open doorway. The Beater's back was turned, and his body still in motion towards the back of the cell from his last rush. Before he could get his bearings, the cell door slammed shut and the Beater was left alone in the pitch black cell with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy him. Or not.

Draco staggered down the hallway, unsure of his next move. He could hear the Beater banging on the iron door of his cell, and knew it wouldn't be long before other guards came to his rescue. Draco couldn't hope to save the West by himself, but he refused to give up after coming so far. Draco needed help, and an idea sprung into his head as he listened to the Beater's futile attempts to break free. Surely some of his fellow soldiers were being held prisoner here as well. Mustering up his strength, Draco forced his way down one of the branching corridors, hoping to find any survivors of the West.

Draco creeped up to the closest unguarded cell door, not wanting to arouse any more guards on duty. He knocked on the door, hoping the prisoner inside could hear him. A muffled response came from the other side, and it sounded like there were two soldiers inside. Draco risked raising his voice to let them know who he was.

"Whoever is in there, this is General Draco Christophe, leader of the Western Army. I have come to rescue you and reclaim what is ours. Are you able to fight?"

At this, a loud cheer went up from the prison cell and a familiar voice greeted the tired general.

"General! Thank God! I knew you'd come for us again! It's me, Biggs! Wedge is in here too, and we sure as hell have enough fight in us to help you take back our home from these scum! Let us out and we'll show you what we can do!"

Now Draco was in a bind. He had no key to any of the cells, and knew the only way to free his men was to find another guard and somehow get his keys. Before Draco could fornulate a plan, two guards came rushing around the corner, spears in hand, and stopped cold when they saw him. Draco quickly turned around and braced himself for battle.

"Impossible! General Christophe...is that you? We thought you were dead! Ralse told us you had been killed in battle. What on earth are you doing here? How did you make it past the Eastern troops outside? It's madness to try and attack the castle alone, now that Ralse is in control!"

A glint of joy shown in Draco's eyes as he recognized the armor of the West. It would seem Ralse's overconfidence would be his undoing. This would certainly be the hour of the West's revenge. Ralse had foolishly left much of the Western soldiers stationed in the castle unharmed in return for their continued service under him, thinking a rebellion was inconceivable against the overwhelming forces of the East around them. Draco was intent on showing his adversary just how wrong he was tonight.

"My men, forget anything Ralse has told you. He is a liar and a coward. I am here now and together we will take back the West! Follow me and avange your fallen comrades!"

The two men quickly rushed forward and joined their general in arms, eager to forget their shameful service to Prince Ralse.

"Quickly, unlock this cell door. Two men are inside who I owe much to. I must see that they are safe."

One of the guards stepped forward and took out a key, unlocking the cell door. As soon as the door opened, Biggs and Wedge rushed out and embraced their leader, tears streaming down both their faces. Draco couldn't help but shed a tear as well at the devotion and endurance of his soldiers. Biggs looked into Draco's face and spoke fervently.

"General, we never thought we'd make it out of there alive! Our execution was scheduled for tomorrow, and we had given up all hope of escaping. I'm sorry we couldn't help you before, but we'll make it up tonight, you have my word!"

"Mine as well, General. I pledge my sword and my soul to you again, here. Whatever happens tonight, I will not let you down. We may still be injured, but our wounds have healed enough to serve you one more time. Just show us where to point our swords and we'll follow."

Draco looked back and forth between his newly regained allies, hope and joy buidling inside him. Surely there were more soldiers scattered around the castle willing to raise their weapons and fight Ralse and his men. Maybe even enough to mount an effective counterattack and regain the castle. Draco's mind sped through the options before him, and he soon arrived at his next choice of action.

"I am more glad than you could imagine to see you two are all right, Biggs, Wedge. I was told you were dead, but it seems you have once again surprised me with your perserverance. Yes, tonight Ralse will pay for what he has done, but we cannot act rashly. We are few, and he still has many loyal soldiers in the castle. We must be swift and careful. There is no room for mistakes now."

Draco now turned to the two guards, and inquired about the status of the castle.

"There are still many Western soldiers roaming the castle, sir. I am sure if word of your arrival reached their ears, they would join us against the Eastern occupation, no matter the odds. Your timing couldn't have been better, too. At the moment Ralse is holding a ball to celebrate his wedding to Maria and succession to the throne of the West. Almost all the high ranking officials and soldiers of the East are there now, and the castle halls are all but deserted. If we act quietly, we can gather what troops are left without anyone knowing. I estimate at least a hundred Western soldiers are still here."

"Good. I want you to stay here and free as many Western soldiers as you can. In fact, free everyone who is willing to fight, West or East. I'm sure none of the prisoners here are very loyal to Ralse, and we can use all the help we can find. Now go, time is not on our side. Good luck."

"Yes, sir!" With that, the guard ran off to free the other soldiers.

Draco turned to the other guard, and continued directing the coming attack. "I want you to go talk to as many Western soldiers still in the castle as you can. Tell them that I have returned and am leading a surprise attack on Ralse within the hour. You won't arouse any suspicion if you keep your head down and act like you're simply relaying orders. With luck Ralse won't have time to organize his men and we can catch them by surprise in the ballroom. If you encounter any resistance from Eastern guards, fight back if you can. We cannot let our cover be blown yet."

"Yes, sir! Don't worry about me, the Eastern guards have grown lax these past few days and don't stand a chance against my spear. You'll have your army back soon, General!"

Draco grinned and nodded for the guard to leave. Now he turned to Biggs and Wedge and told them the last, dire part of his plan.

"For you two, I have a special task. You will accompany me in a covert rush for the ballroom. I know this castle's interior well, and Ralse does not. There are many secret paths hidden for those that have need of them. We will sneak into the ballroom from a side path in the garden, and ambush Prince Ralse. If I know Ralse, he wil not stand for the humiliation of being attacked at his own coronation. He will surely want to fight me one-on-one, his pride would not have it any other way. I must be on my guard though, for Ralse is still a coward, and at the first sign of defeat will order his men to attack. That is where you come in. You two must keep his guards at bay until the rest of our men come in. Once we are all together, I will take Ralse hostage, and force him to surrender the West back to me. I doubt he will comply, but his reign will end tonight, one way or another. Without him, the East will have lost the driving force of its invasion, and will have no choice but to stand down. I know Ralse's father, and he will surely order a retreat when he hears the news of Ralse's capture."

As Biggs and Wedge listened to Draco's speech, their faces shown with a sense of renewed hope. Their confidence grew as Draco explained his plan with pinpoint accuracy. If their leader said it could be done, they believed him. Little did they know that Draco's confidence was also growing as he watched the reactions in his men's eyes. He knew they would follow him, and he was glad he had such trustworthy soldiers by his side. It was this shared trust that allowed Draco and his men to accomplish what seemed like miracle victories over the East time and time again. Now was the time for one more miracle, and Draco and his men believed in each other and their victory absolutely.

"Let's go, friends. The West will not be forgotten now, or ever."


	21. For the Lovers, 'The West Rises'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.7 - The West Rises**

With the fires of hope and vengeance burning in their chests, the three warriors set off for the entrance to the dungeon. None of them knew exactly how they would be able to accomplish this seemingly impossible task in their condition, but they believed in each other, and that was enough to try. Before the three entered the foyer at the base of the stairs that led upwards, Biggs stopped and motioned to the others to follow him down another path.

"I used to work as a guard for the dungeons here, and I know the layout pretty well. There is a path here that leads to a storage room. Our weapons are probably being kept there." Biggs glanced over at Draco with a look of concern. "I'm sorry sir, but I doubt your weapon will also be down here. Your blade is a treasure beyond worth, and I'm sure Ralse is keeping it someplace very safe."

Draco didn't seem to be bothered by this news, and simply smiled knowingly.

"The weapon does not make the man, Biggs. I am sure I will find something I can use here. Please, lead the way."

Biggs quickly led them down a short path and into a room lined with rusty suits of antique armor and various arrays of weapons of all shapes and sizes. Wedge managed to find the sword he had used earlier, and Biggs also managed to find a sword, as well as ammo and a gun, his weapon of choice. Draco carefully inspected the various weapons piled against the walls, and after some consideration plucked a long spear from the wall. He hefted it above his head and twirled it like a baton, skillfully bringing it down in front of him and then to his side as he spun it.

"This will do."

Now that the three were armed, they headed back towards the foyer and carefully made their way up into the castle. Sure enough, the castle hallways were almost deserted, with only a few guards scattered about. There were still too many Eastern guards to successfully sneak to the entrance to the garden a few corridors down, though. Draco knew just one confrontation and his part of the coup would be shot. He must find a way to get to the garden without being seen.

Luckily, a Western guard was waiting near the exit and spotted them coming up from below. With a subtle nod of acknowledgment in Draco's direction he casually walked over to the closest Eastern guards and started talking to them, distracting them from Draco's presence. Motioning to Biggs and Wedge, he slunk along the walls towards the garden hallway, always keeping in the shadows. Biggs and Wedge did well in keeping up with their leaders unmatched stealth, and all of them remained undetected by the few Eastern guards still on the prowl.

After a few tense moments the three had made it to the garden's entrance, and were greeted with the cool night breeze and pale moonlight filtering through the high rows of hedges. As they entered the garden, a shooting star appeared above them, as if welcoming them to this Eden. The garden was a beautiful sight at any time of the year, and tonight was no exception. Even in the darkness it gave off a majestic aura, a monument to the ceaseless efforts of the Western artisans. From where Draco and his men stood they could just make out the grand stone fountain in the center, surrounded by circular walls of lush green hedges. The fountain was in the shape of a large sea serpent coiled around itself, similar in design to the dragon above the doorway to the main hall. From its mouth a steady trickle of clear water arched outwards and down into the basin below. Draco, Biggs, and Wedge took this opportunity to get a much-needed drink before their assault on the ballroom. There were no guards out in the garden, and for the time being the men could let down their guard while they prepared for the coming fight. They sat on the rim of the fountain's basin for a moment, collecting their thoughts. Wedge was the first one to break the tense silence.

"Hey, Biggs. Remember that promise we made about seeing one more sunrise together?"

"Yeah, I remember. I still intend to keep that promise. Sunrises from behind prison doors don't count."

"Do you still think we can do it? I mean, we got lucky last time, but this time it really seems like we're going to our deaths. I...I'm a little scared."

"Don't think like that. We will make it through tonight alive, you just have to believe in yourself and the General. Isn't that right, sir?"

Draco hadn't been paying attention to their conversation, though. He was staring off into the sky, admiring the stars and twin moons. His thoughts were only on one thing at the moment - his love, Maria. As he watched the sky, a second shooting star raced across his view. As he followed its path, his eyes wandered onto a balcony on the other side of the castle. Draco shot up from his seat and looked hard in the direction of the balcony, his eyes seeing something he had seen only in his dreams for so long. It was Maria!

_"Maria!"_

Without thinking Draco let out the cry, then he stood silently, taking in the heavenly sight before him. Biggs jumped up at his sudden outburst, looking in the direction Draco was, a mixture of confusion and fear in his voice.

"Sir? What's wrong? Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Draco remained motionless, still looking at Maria's form before him, her back now to him as she looked out over the forest on the other side of the castle walls.

"No, Biggs, it is no ghost, but an angel. Look. Over there. There is your sunrise." Draco pointed towards his love, and now both Biggs and Wedge saw what he saw.

Both men could see what Draco was talking about as they took in Maria's beauty. Her flowing golden hair cast a bright glow around her, and the moonlight danced off of her in such a way that she really did seem as bright and welcoming as a new day's sun. As the three of them gazed at her, they were filled with the hope the Star of the West instilled in everyone she met. Unbeknownst to them, Maria too was suddenly filled with a new surge of hope as her heart heard the cry of her lost love, so close and yet so far away still.

As they stood there motionless, Maria's image vanished into the castle, and the brief moment of serenity passed. Draco, Biggs, and Wedge looked at each other as if waking from a dream, and knew it was time to go.

"Maria, I am coming. Just hold on a bit longer. I can feel your unease, but we will be together soon now." Draco painfully turned away from the balcony and looked at Biggs and Wedge gravely. "Let's get going, men. The secret path should be along the eastern wall, behind a specific hedge. Follow me."

Draco cautiously led them away from the fountain and towards a long wall lined with unkempt hedges. Draco brushed his hand along the hedges as he walked, searching for the location of the passage. His hand stopped at a section of hedge that looked identical to the rest of the garden, but Draco's touch knew better. He reached further in and pulled at an object hidden in the tangled overgrowth. With a slight creaking sound, a metal door could be heard swinging open behind the hedge. Now Draco turned to Biggs and motioned for his sword. With a few deft swings, a hole large enough to squeeze through had been made in the hedge, and the three of them vanished from the garden.

After a few minutes of blindly feeling through dark unlit passageways, the sound of music could be heard coming from around the corner. The three men were nearing the ballroom, and in a moment would make their move on Ralse and his subordinates. Draco stopped short of the exit and carefully peered around the corner. His view was partially obscured by curtains, but he could make out a wide open floor with many couples dancing, Prince Ralse and Maria among them. Draco could feel the urge to fight grip him, and checked himself. It was infuriating to see his love in the arms of that man, but he knew she must be hating it as much as he was. Losing control was the last thing he could let happen at a critical moment like this. He just needed to wait until Ralse came close enough and he could use his spear to trip him and then pounce on his unsuspecting prey.

Meanwhile, Maria and Ralse circled on the dance floor, with Ralse doing much of the leading. Maria's heart was obviously not into the event, and she looked despondently around the room as Ralse forcefully led her about. This was nothing like the precious memories of Draco she had just relived on the balcony. Ralse was a harsh man with little patience for her apathetic steps. As they danced Ralse whispered into her ear a reminder of her position.

"Maria, it would do you some good to try and be more courteous in front of our guests. You _will_ be my wife tonight, and in time you may learn to enjoy your new position of fame and power. I suggest, for the sake of your country, that you at least pretend to be enjoying yourself."

Maria now looked back at Ralse and stared straight into his cold grey eyes, the loathing apparent for anyone nearby to sense.

"I'll never truly be yours, Chad. You can force me to marry you, and you can threaten my kingdom, but this prize will forever elude you. My heart belongs to Draco, nothing will change that, not even his death. Your position and power mean nothing to me."

Ralse's temper was rising now, but he kept dancing, pulling Maria with him as he spoke.

"So be it, then. Don't forget that I hold not just your life, but the life of your child and your country in the palm of my hand. Soon the wedding will start and what you think will not matter anymore. You _are_ mine, Maria. Accept it!"

Ralse gave one more tug and turned her about as they circled closer and closer to where Draco was lying in wait. Soon he would strike. Draco looked back at Biggs and Wedge anxiously trying to see what was going on behind the curtains. One more turn and Ralse was now only a few feet away from the curtains. Draco motioned to Biggs and Wedge to ready themselves as he carefully extended his spear along the floor, right behind Ralse's feet. One more step and Draco would lift the spear and send Ralse tumbling to the floor. Now!

With a sharp thrust, Draco's spear rose up from the floor and caught Ralse in midstep, causing him to fall onto his back as Maria looked on in shock. Before Ralse could recover himself, Draco leapt out from behind the curtains and pointed the tip of his spear directly at Ralse's throat. Biggs and Wedge leapt out behind him and shielded him from the surrounding masses of stunned soldiers, the glint of blades already appearing at the sides of many of them. The two men let up a cry as Biggs fired a warning shot into the air.

"The Survivors of the West attack! Surrender and we will spare your lives!"

Draco glanced over at Maria, the hatred in his face softening for a moment as he took in her radiance. No words came to him as the two of them stood there.

"Maria...I..."

Maria smiled, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Draco, I've waited so long. They said you were dead, but I knew you'd come for me."

Ralse was still on the floor, his face twisted in surprise and hatred as he looked on at the two lovers enviously.

"Impossible! How did you escape? What are all of you doing, attack these scoundrels!"

Many of the soldiers were still in the middle of dancing with their partners when Draco struck, and none of them were prepared for an engagement here. The soldiers stood motionless as Biggs leveled his weapon at the crowd, slowly panning back and forth to give each one of them a clear view of the barrel of his gun. Daschel was the first to step forward, his long, slender rapier drawn.

"What do you fools hope to accomplish here? You're completely surrounded by the finest soldiers of the East! Surrender now and your deaths will be quick."

Biggs pointed his gun directly at Daschel, his thumb slowly pulling back the hammer in preparation to fire. Daschel could see the murder in Biggs's eyes, and knew if he took one more step he would be a dead man. He looked nervously at Ralse for a sign of what to do, but Ralse's eyes were on the tip of Draco's spear with the same fear on his face as the rest of the Eastern soldiers in the room.

Now Draco spoke up, setting the trap that would ensnare the covetous Ralse.

"Come Ralse, let us settle this here and now. Or would you rather have your lackeys claim the honor of dispatching me? Are you so afraid of me that you would send your entire army before yourself for one weary soldier? Stand up and fight me like a man!"

Draco slowly pulled his spear back from Ralse's throat, but not so far that he couldn't deliver a fatal blow if Ralse made any sudden moves. Ralse slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving Draco's. He knew that Draco was simply baiting him but it didn't matter. Ralse would never live down the shame of declining his rival's challenge, and his intense jealousy forced him into a fight he knew would breed nothing but problems for him. Ralse steadied himself and called for a sword, as Draco relaxed his spear a few more inches.

"Fine! I will get rid of you and the rest of your riff raff right here. Nothing will stand in my way after that. Maria will finally have to become my queen! Your corpse at her feet will make her realize that more than my words could!"

Draco just laughed as he hoisted his spear and aimed it at Ralse, the clash only seconds away. With one last look at Maria, he nodded at Ralse, his signal that he was ready.

"Maria, for the rest of my life I will keep you near to me. Never again will we be apart, and never again shall this man come between us."

Ralse had heard enough, and maliciously pointed his sword directly at Draco like a general commanding his troops to open fire.

"It is a duel, then! En garde!"

Ralse made the first move, and plunged forward at Draco, his sword lined up with Draco's heart. Draco parried the blow with the metal haft of his spear, then quickly stepped to the side as Ralse rushed past him. Draco spun the spear around and attempted to drive the butt of the spear into Ralse's back, but Ralse was too fast. He recovered from his first failed strike and turned his body just in time for the end of the spear to jab the air beside him. Ralse lunged at Draco once more, but Draco used his spear as a shield again, never letting Ralse get too close. Ralse vainly tried to attack his opponent several more times, but every time Draco either dodged or blocked his attack, never taking the offensive for himself.

Draco held his spear in front of him length-wise, waiting patiently for Ralse's next move, trying to enrage him into exposing himself. Unlike Ralse, Draco was not trying to kill, but delay his opponent. He needed Ralse as a hostage, not a body. He knew full well if he killed Ralse now, someone like Daschel would simply take his place. Draco would kill Ralse now if he had to, but if he could just hold him at bay him a bit longer, the reinforcements would arrive and the battle could then begin in earnest.

Ralse was visibly becoming frustrated now, his swings coming faster and less skillfully. Draco was no fool, though, and didn't let down his guard in the least. Ralse's attacks were still very dangerous, even with his escalating temper. If just one of Ralse's attacks connected, he would be dead. Ralse was trained in the art of quick killing, and every one of his blows was a death strike waiting for a chance to hit.

With a cry of anger, Ralse leapt into the air and raised his sword for a downward slash that would cleave Draco's exposed head in two if it hit. Draco barely managed to raise his spear above his head in time to block the blow, and he could feel the strength of the blow in his arms as Ralse landed. Draco was too weak to keep this game up forever, and that last attack left him visibly shaken. His arms trembled as he lowered his spear back in front of him. Ralse could see his foe's weakening state, and sneered.

"What's wrong, Draco? Too afraid to strike me? Come now, where's all that pent up hatred at? I _know_ it's in there, threatening to overtake you. I can see it in those eyes of yours. Fight me you coward!"

Another quick, almost playful, strike was narrowly dodged by Draco, and now it seemed it was Ralse who was toying with Draco. He guessed that Draco was trying to subdue him and force him to surrender the kingdom, and suspected it was only a matter of time before he wore the tired general down. He just needed to keep the pressure on and not give Draco a chance to catch his breath.

Draco attempted to charge Ralse with the haft of his spear and knock him over, but Ralse was still faster, and nimbly jumped to the side. Draco turned around just in time to see Ralse slowly spinning his sword as he walked towards him. A smile played on his lips as he prepared for his final blow. Draco's movements were becoming more sluggish and predictable and Ralse knew he had him right where he wanted him. Ralse let loose with a series of zigzagging swipes, giving Draco almost no time to counter them with his spear. Draco was slowly fading as he tried to block one blow after another. There was no chance of subduing Ralse as long as he kept up this flurry of attacks. Doggedly, Draco stepped back and blocked one last vicious strike with his spear. These attacks had been well-planned attacks on Draco's spear, not his body, however, and with that final blow Ralse had managed to break the spear in half just as he had expected. Draco fell back as his spear cracked in two, his hands still clutching either side.

"Hah! Now see what your impetuousness has gotten you? Did you really think you could best me in your pathetic condition? Ironic that the Dragon of the West should be slain right here in his very own halls. Take a good look at Maria, friend, for you will never see her again. She is mine now!"

Taking his sword in both hands, Ralse stepped forward to kill Draco, but before he could deliver the blow, the large golden doors of the ballroom swung open and a large mass of Western soldiers poured in, swords and spears drawn. Ralse's men barely had time to react, and Ralse himself was caught completely off guard, his swing faltering and clanging against the floor beside Draco. With a sickening realization of his new position, he kicked Draco to the side and ran back to join the fight.

Draco looked up at Maria and yelled to her to take cover. She quickly gathered the rest of the women, huddled against the wall during Draco and Ralse's duel, and led them back through the passage Draco had come from. Now Biggs and Wedge sprang into action and helped their commander to his feet.

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I will not be able to fight with you now. Leave me be and join your fellow soldiers in the attack. Even if we have the advantage in numbers, these are no mere grunts we are fighting. These are the best fighters of the Eastern army. They will need your help more than I do. Go!"

Biggs and Wedge wouldn't hear any of Draco's pleas, though. They steadfastly stood their ground next to the fallen general. Wedge helped Draco back against the wall, ready to carry him off behind the curtains after Maria.

"Never, sir! We will not let them take you again! You saved our lives, and now it's our turn to save yours. You just stay there. We will keep you safe from harm."

Biggs fired off a couple shots into the melee behind him, then turned and smiled at Draco, proud to be able to protect his leader now. His smile turned into a grimace of pain as a cruel stab from behind pierced his side, causing him to drop his gun and crumple to the ground in stunned silence.

"Miserable insect! I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance! No more! You die here, mongrel!"

Daschel's high airy voice came from behind Biggs's back and once Biggs had fallen to the side, he turned his blood-stained rapier on Wedge. Wedge looked on in horror as his friend lay motionless on the floor, the fine red carpet stained by the growing pool of blood. He looked at Daschel and without thinking charged him.

"You! You'll pay for that, you coward!"

Daschel remained calm and smoothly veered to the side to dodge Wedge's blind rush. The full fury of Wedge's blow was unexpected, though, and Daschel couldn't dodge it without suffering a gruesome gash to his right arm. He pulled his arm back in pain, and raised his sword with the other, instinctively swinging wide as he turned back to face Wedge. In his rage, Wedge charged again without thinking, and Daschel's blade bit into his side as he came about He was too incensed to care about his own injuries anymore, and ruthlessly struck back at Daschel's extended arm, nearly severing it. Daschel dropped his sword and fell to the ground trying to recover, but with both his arms injured beyond use, he could do nothing but watch as Wedge staggered forward and ran his sword straight through his heart.

Daschel slumped backward and onto the ground, with his face looking numbly out across the hall. The last sight that met his eyes was a small, humble painting of the previous king of West Jidorik hanging on the wall across from him. It was painted with care and love by one of the king's pages, and hung unceremoniously, but respectfully above the king's throne. As his vision and mind clouded, for the first time in his life Daschel saw the remarkable, yet simple beauty of the West in that humble picture. He knew there would be no one to paint his portrait back in East Jidorik after his death, and for the first time in his life he regretted not being able to see the West as Ralse had until it was too late. A last gasp left Daschel's lips, and he was gone.

Wedge fell forward and crawled towards Biggs, his wound hindering him greatly. He grabbed at Biggs and struggled to get him to respond.

"Biggs! Hold on! We were going to see the sun rise together, remember? Just a few more hours, Biggs! Open your eyes, please!"

Without moving or opening his eyes, Biggs let out a small sigh, and struggled to speak, a smile slowly creeping over his pale face.

"We already...have...Wedge. Already...have..."

No more sounds of life came from Biggs, and Wedge fell forward onto his body and wept for his fallen ally as the life drained from his form as well. In his despair, he still remembered his duty to his general, though, and pushed himself over to where Draco was still lying, a look of intense sadness now on his face. With some effort the two of them managed to make it to the passage behind the curtains. Once safely in the passage, Wedge collapsed beside Draco, the last of his strength quickly fading.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save him, Wedge. I am too weak to fight now, and I can only pray we are not discovered back here. We will watch the sunrise together, and remember his valor."

Wedge did not respond, though. His body quietly laid across Draco's, and Draco knew he had gone as well.

"Farewell, friend. _I_ will watch the sunrise and remember, I promise."

Draco carefully let Wedge's body fall to the ground as he struggled to make it down the passage and find Maria and the rest of the women who had escaped. He could not stay where he was, or the West would have no leader to guide them through the coming upset of power. He had watched the battle as Daschel fought Biggs and Wedge, and could see plainly that the surprised East was no match for the newly invigorated West. Soon all the highest ranking officials of the Eastern army would be either dead or taken hostage, and they would have no choice but to surrender their forces. He had tried to find Ralse in the fray, but saw no sign of him. Could the coward have escaped unnoticed, leaving his men to fend for themselves? Despicable, even for Ralse. Draco swore he would hunt him down and make him answer for all the pain and suffering he had caused someday. For now, Draco needed to recover, and with a slight groan got up and slowly felt his way back down the passage and into Maria's waiting arms.


	22. For the Lovers, 'A Moment of Peace'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - For the Lovers**

* * *

**Part 3.8 - A Moment of Peace**

As soon as Draco emerged from the hedges Maria was by his side, helping him to the fountain where the rest of the women were waiting. She had been waiting there for him, knowing that he would come back to her shortly. She leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips, the long awaited reunion breathing new life into Draco.

"Maria...thank you for waiting for me. I am sorry if I worried you, but we are safe now. Ralse is no longer a threat to us."

Maria remained silent, and continued to embrace Draco, happy just to have him in her arms again. Draco understood, and remained silent, both of them waiting for news on the outcome of the ambush. Much would need to be decided in the next few hours, and the two lovers took this brief moment to quietly enjoy their first time together in three months.

Before long a Western soldier came rushing into the garden from the hallway entrance. He was wounded, but not seriously, and happily greeted Draco and Maria.

"General! Lady Maria! Good news! We managed to take control of the ballroom and have taken over a dozen Eastern officials hostage. The rest are dead. We are continuing to sweep the castle interior for any other Eastern soldiers, and most are laying down their weapons as soon as they see us. The surviving Easterners are already talking of surrender, now that Ralse is no longer in control. It seems many of them had reservations about the war to begin with, but Ralse's overpowering influence forced them to go along with his warmongering. This is a night to be remembered, sir! The West has won!"

Draco smiled at Maria, and then looked at the soldier with intense pride.

"Yes, you have all fought bravely and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how proud I am of every one of you. We have earned this victory tonight, but there is still much to be done. What of Ralse? Has anyone seen him?"

The soldier looked a bit unsettled at this question, but answered his leader truthfully.

"No. Ralse somehow escaped during the fight. Soldiers throughout the castle report that he fled north, into the Rivan mountains. As soon as we have secured the castle, we will send scouts out to look for him. There's no way we will let him escape so easily. He has much to answer for."

Draco thought about this piece of information for a few moments before responding. Why flee north into the mountains? There were no Eastern bases there as far as Draco knew, and Ralse would only encounter hostile nomad tribes in that region. This new information was puzzling to Draco, but now was not the time to be worrying about such things. Right now, he had his home to rebuild.

"Let him be for now. He will show himself eventually, it is in his nature. What we must do now is reorganize our forces and rebuild the West. The castle is still surrounded by Eastern soldiers who do not know what has happened here tonight, and countless more are waiting beyond the capital's borders. Send messengers out to spread the word that the Eastern command structure has been destroyed and the West is now requesting peace talks."

"At once, sir!"

After the soldier left, Draco leaned on Maria's shoulder and soon was in a deep sleep. Numerous soldiers tried to approach him as the night wore on, but Maria waved them all off, intent on letting her hero reap his reward for the long struggles behind him. She could only imagine the ordeals he must have gone through to be here in her arms, but none of that mattered now. All that was important was that he _was_ in her arms, and nothing was going to change that. Soon Maria too was asleep, and no one dared disturb either of them.

As morning approached, Draco stirred, his body reminding him of one last duty he needed to perform. Draco looked up into the sky, and saw that it was still dark, although a faint glow could be seen just beneath the horizon. He knew what he had to do, and tried to stand, but fell back, his body still recovering from last night's exertions. Maria awoke at his movements, unsure of what he wanted.

"What is it, Draco? Is something wrong?"

"There is something I must do. Please Maria, help me to my feet."

Maria obliged, and lifted Draco to his feet, supporting him as he looked on at the horizon. No words escaped his lips, and it looked like he was waiting for something. As the sun began to show its face to the world, Draco spoke up in subdued tones, remembering the two soldiers who had given their lives for his safety.

"Are you watching, Biggs, Wedge? Your bravery and honor was beyond compare, and I shall never forget your sacrifices. Here is your promised sunrise, bringing with it the hopes and dreams of our people. Today will be a day of peace, dearly bought. I will remember this day, and those who died to achieve it. Sleep well, friends."

Draco quietly mused for a moment, then turned to Maria and kissed her. Many things needed to be done today, and it was best if he got started as soon as possible. Maria looked at him and knew it was time for them to leave the garden and face up to the reality of the new world they were about to build. Together, they walked out of the garden and back into the castle. As they made their way back towards the throne room, they passed many cheerful guards attending to their own duties for the day, free from the burden of their Eastern oppressors.

As the two approached the main doors to the throne room, Draco stopped and looked up at the dragon's head above the doors. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to enter these doors without fear or secrecy, and Draco opened them with pride as he waved to the guards on either side. The room had been cleaned up since the night before, but the ravages of battle could still be seen lingering in a few places. Despite the gruesome events that had taken place, the remaining soldiers, both East and West, seemed happy. With Draco's strength coming back to him, Maria departed and went to talk with some of the soldiers nearby. They eagerly greeted her, all curious to know how her and Draco were holding up and what plans they had for the future of the kingdom.

Many of the Eastern soldiers gladly gave up their weapons and joined the Western forces once Ralse was deposed, and they were now chatting carelessly with the Western soldiers who had been their hated enemies not a day ago. It seems the malice of the East had not infected all of its people as deeply as some. Perhaps it was Ralse himself that was the center of all the negative energy that seemed to surround the Eastern society. Now that he and his supporters were gone, there was hope the East and West could put aside their differences and become one unified nation like they were long ago.

Draco gladly welcomed any chance for peace between the two nations, and happily stopped and greeted not only his own men, but the Eastern soldiers who had chosen to stay and help. It was hard for him to look at these men as his allies now, but he knew if they were standing here now, despite the actions they had taken for the East, then they deserve his respect as much as anyone. Draco was a friend of peace, and he could see the desire for peace in the faces of many of the Eastern soldiers. This was good enough for him.

As he made his way towards the throne, he could see not only his own wizened Chancellor, but Ralse's advisor both standing next to the throne, waiting for his arrival. They were both immensely relieved to see him alive and well, and greeted him with warm handshakes as he approached. The Western Chancellor was the first to speak up, his voice crisp with many years behind it.

"Ah, General Christophe, it is a pleasure to see you again! Truly, a miraculous event has happened here. Advisor Barden has assured me that with Ralse and his men out of favor, the East will surely call off its attack and soon peace will be achieved. Ralse's father will take control of the Eastern affairs once more and a new era of stability will soon be before us. These are wondrous times, My Lord!"

Draco inwardly cringed at being addressed with such formal tones. He never had aspirations of being a ruler like Ralse, and was content to simply lead his troops under his king's name. Now with the king dead, and him the great hero of the war, it seemed painfully clear what the people would want of him. Lord Christophe? Draco didn't like the taste of that title in his mouth, and would much rather give the reigns of the kingdom to the Chancellor. With a submissive glance, Draco looked at the throne before him, hesitant to take his place on it. The Chancellor saw Draco's hesitation, and knew what he must be thinking.

"Please, General, be seated! We have much to discuss about the future of the kingdom. Do not worry, your place on the throne is well deserved. The entire castle has been clamoring about you being the next king all night, and many would be happy to see you on the throne by the end of the day, if such things were permitted. I know you have never really wanted to be the ruler of our people, but if the public demands it surely you will accept your new position?"

Draco didn't answer the Chancellor immediately. He still had reservations, and had never really given much thought to the role before him. Before he could give the Chancellor an answer, the large doors to the throne room flung open and a strangely clad women ran up to the throne. She seemed in a great hurry, and paid no attention to anyone in the room except for Advisor Barden. She was dressed head to toe in a jet black robe of an unknown material that brightly reflected the lights of the throne room. The black robe concealed a bright white robe beneath that occasionally shone through the deep black as she walked with wide rapid strides towards the advisor. She seemed very young, and greatly distressed at the state of the castle. She looked about her with an air of open curiosity and awe, almost like a naive hand maiden. Her light blonde hair could just be seen poking out of the drawn hood of her robe, as if she had been in too much of a hurry to properly cover it. A delicate circlet inlaid with a line of beautiful pearls rested on her forehead, with another string of pearls around her neck. She seemed to be a priestess of some sort, except for her uncharacteristic energy over her surroundings. She rushed right past Draco and took the Eastern advisor's hand, looking at him with wild eyes.

"Advisor Barden! Where is Prince Ralse? What has happened here? I was supposed to meet with Prince Ralse here today. It is extremely urgent that I see him. Am I too late? Has Narsille attacked? Has it begun? Tell me!"

Barden didn't seem surprised at the stream of excited questions posed to him, but was still unsure how to relate all that had happened to this new arrival. He seemed to recognize the woman, and was familiar with her and her hyperactive demeanor.

"Cassandra, please calm down. You're getting entirely too excited and ahead of yourself, as usual. Prince Ralse is no longer in power. He was overthrown last night by a surprise Western ambush. This man here is the one you should be addressing now. He is known as General Draco Christophe. Please introduce yourself properly."

The woman seemed openly shocked at this new turn of events, and felt no shame in expressing her concerns.

"How has this happened? I must see Prince Ralse! He must be informed as to the status of Narsille! What am I supposed to do now? Advisor, I -"

"Enough Cassandra! I know how confusing this all is, but I am sure the General will listen to what you have to say as surely as the Prince did. Do not concern yourself with our problems, we are undoubtedly in better hands now than before. Nothing has changed on your end."

The advisor's words seem to calm the wild woman a little, and she turned to Draco and apologized for her rudeness.

"I am sorry for my behavior, General...Christophe was it? I am Cassandra, a priestess of the Order of the Pearl. I have been secretly relaying the movements of Narsille and the Committee to Prince Ralse for some time now. Please! Now you must listen to what I have to say! For the sake of the world!"

Draco stared at this wide-eyed women with uncertainty. It was hard to believe this frantic, outspoken young woman was a priest of the highly secretive and solemn Pearl, the dominant religious organization in the world. He had not had much contact with the group, tending to keep to matters of war and not religion. He knew of the many dealings Pearl had with almost every nation of the world, and that Narsille housed the center of the organization, but beyond the basic structure of the group, he knew nothing. Despite his misgivings, Draco greeted the woman cordially, eager to learn of the news she brought.

"I am at your service, Cassandra. You are safe here, I give you my word. Although I must admit I do not know much of your group and its dealings with Jidorik. What business did you have with Ralse?"

Cassandra looked quickly between Draco and Advisor Barden, unsure of how much to reveal of her purpose here. Barden saw her conflict, and stepped in to fill Draco in on the ongoing talks between her and Ralse.

"Allow me, Cassandra. General, we have been covertly receiving information on the inner workings of Narsille and Pearl for almost a year now, thanks to Cassandra. She is risking more than you can imagine coming to us, so I urge you to carefully listen to her words. I think you should definitely hear her out, since the news she has been bringing of late has been most serious. It seems Narsille is planning some kind of major campaign, with the backing of the Order of the Pearl. We are still unsure of the exact details, but Cassandra assures us that if we allow them to proceed with their plans, the entire world will be thrown into chaos. We are lucky Ralse decided to divulge his plans with me upon the arrival of Cassandra's letter last night, or I may never have known about the danger before us."

Draco was impressed with the magnitude of these claims, and again looked with quiet wonder at the girl before him. Could she really be trusted? She had been in concert with Ralse afterall. As he looked at her small, frail form, she seemed harmless and well-meaning enough, so Draco decided it was in his best interest to listen to the news she brought, even if he didn't fully believe the true size of the threat she claimed.

"Well, this is grave news indeed. I have always believed Narsille was a realm devoted to peace through technological advancement, not war and destruction. Please, Cassandra, what news have you brought?"

Cassandra's face lit up with a frantic excitement as she relayed the information she had intended to tell Prince Ralse.

"Thank you General! I must say you are far easier to deal with than Prince Ralse. I never did like him much, too full of himself and his own ambitions. He treated me like some common traitor, like I was an enemy of good. Me! A Maiden of the Pearl! I serve only one master, the Holy Master of Pearl, the blessed source of all life and prosperity..."

At this the Chancellor cleared his throat and glared at the rambling priestess, anxious for her to get to the point of her visit. Cassandra stopped and realized what she was doing, then let out a rich, soulful laugh.

"Ah..ah yes, sorry. I must say what I came here to say, right? I have a habit of letting my thoughts get away from me. Anyways! I bring important news of activity within Pearl and the Committee. It seems they are now very close to succeeding in their plan to bring about what they call 'The Crystalline Prophecy'. It involves the total subjugation of the world under Pearl, among other things. Only the highest of our order are privy to the details of this prophecy, but from what I gather everything is going to be completed within six months time, maybe less. We must hurry and find out what it is they intend to do and what the prophecy says. Will you help me?"

Once again, Draco was unsure what to make of these new, frightening revelations. The priestess seemed earnest in her intentions, and quite sure of herself, though. What if she was right? Draco was dismayed that so soon after achieving peace at home, he was being pressured into joining a world-wide conflict he was only vaguely aware of. There was no choice for Draco when it came to maintaining peace, and despite his own wishes, he relented and agreed to help Cassandra for the sake of his people. He looked over at Maria, wondering what this information meant for them and their child.

"Good! Now that I have you on my side, I need to show you something. I think it holds the key to stopping this plan in its tracks."

Cassandra reached into her robes and eagerly pulled out what looked like a small leather carrying case with a strap. It was not in the best condition, and seemed to have a permanent coating of sand worn into its creases. She opened it up and with a flourish pulled out a small card with a picture of a man on it, showing it to Draco.

"Look carefully at this. This is who we have to find to save the world. He has something of unspeakable value and danger, and we must get it from him at all costs. This is the face of our enemy, and his name is Dune Karn!"


	23. Demons Within, 'Unwelcome Guests'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

_As I sit here alone, I wonder if I should have done things differently. Could I have done things differently, even? The desire to seek power and knowledge seem to be a fundamental part of human nature. Were these instincts, which have ever led us to our own destruction, given to us by the gods? Or are the gods, too, subject to this driving force? Perhaps we are all victims of the universe we live in, man and gods alike. If so, what hope is there for salvation? I grow weary waiting for an answer, here on this dying rock._

-From _Apologia_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, Year 1 AF

* * *

**Part 4.1 - Unwelcome Guests**

It had been almost a month since Dune had returned from his harrowing journey into the Thanas Desert, and his life was beginning to settle back into something resembling normal. He had received no calls from the Committee, and no more frightening dreams from the entity Dune had come to know as Doom. Dune was trying hard to forget Doom's words and live his life as normally as possible for what little time he had until the Committee called again. The crystal was making this difficult, and despite his best efforts he felt it pulling at his mind every day. Dune's relationship with Mae was suffering more than the rest of Dune's life, the crystal causing a stark change in his dealings with her. It seemed any time pressure was put on Dune to give up the path that was leading him to his destiny, the crystal's influence took over and made him say things that he would never have even thought before.

The same tired routine of convincing Mae that he had to leave on another dig was playing out once again, but this time things weren't going to end peacefully. Mae had received a call from an anonymous stranger claiming that Dune's next dig would be his last, and that if she cared about him at all she would stop him from going at all costs. When Mae confronted him, she received a cold uncaring response unlike the man she married.

"Dune! It's like I don't even know who you are anymore! What have you gotten involved in?"

"Oh please, Mae. Nothing has changed between us. You knew I'd have to be leaving again eventually. You should be used to these calls by now."

"No! No, it's not just the damn digs anymore. For the past month you've been acting strangely anytime I try to get close to you. And you still haven't explained everything that happened on that dig. You say that nothing of importance happened, but I can tell you're lying. What happened Dune? What happened to you?"

"Mae, you have to accept that there's more going on here than what I am able to tell you, or that I even understand myself. Don't worry about that call, it was obviously just meant to stir up trouble. Nothing is going to stop me from going on the next dig. Not you and especially not some random caller."

Now tears were starting to stream down Mae's face. These weren't the warm tears of sadness and worry that nearly stopped Dune from leaving in the past. These were the bitter tears of confusion and despair, and Dune's mood sharply turned at the sight of them, as if each tear was a dagger in his side. He wanted this conversation over, and he didn't care what he had to say to end it.

"Don't start that on me, Mae. We still have a couple months until I leave again, and you are not going to be pulling this every time my job comes up between now and then. Just accept the fact that I am leaving, and give me some peace."

Now Mae was getting angry at Dune's indifference. He had never spoken to her with such harsh, unfeeling tones before.

"I am not your pet, Dune! I have feelings and needs just like you do. You can't just run off and expect me to always be happy about it, especially when people are calling saying you're going die!"

Dune laughed at the idea of him dying on a dig, which only made the situation worse.

"I told you there's nothing to worry about. That was obviously some prank caller. My job is not a dangerous one. The last dig was a fluke, nothing more. Mae, just let me be, please. I'm tired of all this pointless arguing. We love each other, right? That's all that matters. You'll be here when I come back, and I _will_ come back."

Once again, Dune had successfully silenced Mae, but without any of the hopeful warmth he usually ended with. Mae was done arguing, but she wasn't done being mad at Dune or their situation. She looked at him for a moment, trying to think of something more to say. There was nothing to be said anymore, so she sadly walked over and sat on the couch, not looking at Dune. This was the first time where she wasn't sure of either of Dune's promises.

It was a sad truth that "love is all that matters" was a common phrase in that apartment. Dune and Mae did love each other very much, this there was no doubt of. Circumstance and differing lifestyles had been a strain on that love from the very beginning, though. Over the years the strain had only grown as Dune left Mae periodically for his job. Now the strain was finally beginning to tear at the foundations of the relationship, and soon everything they had accomplished would come crashing down. Neither of them wanted that just yet, though, and a mute disquiet seemed to be the only thing keeping the inevitable breakdown from coming.

Once the heat of their argument had died down, Mae quietly muttered something about going shopping for a while. With a quick swish of her long black hair she got up and walked out of the apartment, leaving Dune the one alone. Dune slowly made his way back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

"Mae...what is happening to us? Is this the crystal, or is there really something wrong with our marriage?"

Dune carefully took the crystal out of his pocket and looked at it. It was still as cold and empty as it always appeared, but Dune knew the dark secret waiting within it. It haunted him everytime he went to sleep, and taunted him every time he argued with Mae. He could hear the harsh, deathly voice of Doom echoing in his mind whenever he argued with Mae, teasing him with threats of death and servitude. The constant voice inside him put him on edge and made it impossible to concentrate. It forced him to speak out of frustration and anger, and sometimes he couldn't tell where Doom's voice ended and his own began.

Despite these thoughts, Dune still kept the crystal on his person at all times, and nothing was going to change that. Doom was simply a wretched soul with no power over Dune as long as he could maintain control over himself. Mae was his wife, and Dune knew she would be on his side regardless of what happened to him. The conflict inside Dune was immense, however - he knew the crystal had no power over Mae, and at the same time he knew Mae had no power over the crystal and Doom, and yet they both seemed to have power over him. The only thing keeping him sane was his own unwavering sense of duty to order and logic. As long as he could force things to make sense, he was in control. He knew where he stood with Doom, and he knew where he stood with Mae. He was in control.

Dune's thoughts were interrupted by a rapid knocking at his apartment door. It was not often Dune and Mae had visitors, and the few they had dealt with Dune's job. This made Dune apprehensive, since at the moment any news related to his job would not be good. The knocking persisted, growing in intensity as Dune made his way unhappily to the door. He was strongly inclined to tell whoever it was to just go away and never come back.

Dune quickly opened the door and answered rudely without even looking to see who it was.

"What is it? What do you want from me?"

To his surprise, a woman cloaked in a black robe that looked strangely familiar to him rushed past him into the main room and started dashing from one spot to another, looking up and down in every direction.

"Excuse me! Who are you and what are you doing here? This is a private residence, you can't just..."

"You are Dune Karn, am I right? Then I have every right to be here, and you know it!"

Dune's temper was quickly rising at the unfathomable rudeness coming from this little girl before him.

"No I certainly don't know what gives you the right to rummage through my things. Now I suggest you leave immediately before I call the authorities."

The woman snorted before responding to Dune.

"Ha! Authorities, huh? You don't have a clue do you? Just give it to me, and I'll leave."

"Give what to you? Who _are_ you?"

None of this made any sense to Dune, and he was very close to yelling at this strange woman, if not physically pushing her out of his apartment.

"My name's Cassandra. I'm here to save the world. So if you don't mind, give me the crystal!"

This struck a nerve in Dune, and he immediately felt the pull of the crystal on his thoughts. _Stop her. The crystal is ours. Stop her any way you can. _He had to keep control, or risk letting Doom have his way. Cassandra's spastic unpredictable attitude wasn't making things easy for Dune, though.

"What are you waiting for? Give it to me! I know you have it."

Dune couldn't help clutching at his chest at Cassandra's words. Cassandra noticed Dune's behavior, and soon suspected he had the crystal on him. She turned to Dune and rushed up to him, her eyes on the exact spot where the crystal was. There was an unmistakable look of dread and fear in Dune's eyes now. He stumbled back from her, almost tripping over the couch. _Kill her. Do it! She wants the crystal..._

"Stay back! I'm warning you! Just leave me alone...get away from me!"

Cassandra wasn't listening to him anymore. She knew where the crystal was and was intent on getting it. She kept walking towards Dune, not giving him any time to think. Soon his back was to the wall, and Cassanda was inches away from him. The coldness from the crystal was overwhelming now, and Dune was visibly shaking.

"Geez, what's the matter with you? Just give me the crystal. Don't you know how dangerous that thing is? For your own safety, give it to me!"

It was at that moment that Cassandra made a lethal mistake and reached for the pocket that Dune was clutching.

_NO! It is mine!_

As soon as her hand touched Dune's, a blast of cold air erupted from Dune and sent Cassandra sprawling backwards. She looked up at him with frightened eyes, seeing a totally different person than before. Dune's eyes were glowing blue behind his glasses, and his long white lock of hair was trailing behind him as the cold wind continued to pour from him. His face was contorted into tight grimace, with a distinct look of fear and sadness mixed with the insanity. His teeth were clenched and his fists balled, as if he was struggling with all his might to hold back the forces overtaking him. His entire body was noticeably vibrating now, and it seemed to Cassandra's eyes that he was floating on the cold air that was howling around him.

"What are you doing? Stop it! I'm just trying to help! AHH!"

Dune's eyes lit up and his glasses fogged over, his sight gone. The entire room filled with an intensely cold blue light, covering everything in its cold brilliance. Dune saw nothing and heard nothing, but he still felt the horrid coldness of the light fill every corner of his body. The cold was too much for Dune, and soon all his senses left him and he blacked out. The last thing reaching his mind before he was lost was a slight whisper of a scream far off in the distance.

_No one will take the crystal from us. No one._

When Dune came to, he was again alone in the apartment. He looked around the room but could find no sign of Cassandra. He did find his carrying case lying on the ground next to him, and wondered how it had gotten there. Could that woman have brought it here? What was she trying to do? Where did she go? What happened to me? Dune's head ached as he tried to answer these questions, but one disturbing thought kept coming back to him, forcing its way to the surface no matter how hard he tried to bury it.

"What have I done...?"


	24. Demons Within, 'Spirited Away'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.2 - Spirited Away**

As Dune sat on his couch trying to piece together the few remaining fragments of memory from his encounter with the woman who identified herself as Cassandra, a sharp ringing broke his concentration. Still in a daze, Dune stared dully around the room, only realizing it was his phone after half a dozen rings. He slowly stood up and moved to the phone, each ring waking him up to the real world a little more. By the time he picked up the receiver, Cassandra and her plea seemed like just a fading dream.

As soon as he touched the phone, Dune knew who was on the other line. The sudden burst of heat that coursed through his arm told him all he needed to know. Sade. Rather than answer, Dune simply picked up the phone and listened. That familiar heat froze his heart, and the only thing on Dune's mind was that drilling stare of Sade's, reaching out to him from across the table at the Committee headquarters.

"Hello, Dune. I trust you are feeling more...yourself now?"

A low chuckle rose from the phone, and Sade's voice seemed to bring Dune back to his senses. His nerves, however, were still very far away.

"W,what do you want? Who was that just attacked me?"

That low chuckle again.

"Attacked _you_? Dune, Dune, Dune...at least put the blame where blame is due. Cassandra deserves that much. Don't you worry about the girl. She was a traitor, and got a traitor's reward. You should remember that when the time comes, Dune."

A brief pause, and it might have been his imagination, but Dune could swear the heat in his arm had spread across his chest and was making it difficult to breathe or even move, as if an invisible snake had wrapped itself around him and was slowly suffocating him. When Sade resumed, his voice took on a more officious tone.

"Now, Mr. Karn, I want you to listen very carefully to me. That girl was only the first of many. And, sadly, she was hardly a threat to anyone, naive fool that she was. The ones that come next, indeed are coming as we speak, will not be so easily overtaken. We need your help still, Mr. Karn, and your safety is of the utmost importance to us. It is in your best interest now to return to the Committee headquarters, and I have provided a small entourage to make sure you arrive safely. I am sure you will approve of them when you meet them. They are waiting for you on the ground floor of your building. I suggest you leave your apartment. Immediately. Good-bye, Mr. Karn, and good luck."

Before Dune could respond, he heard a click and Sade was gone. The heat that had nearly drowned him vanished, and Dune wondered if it was ever there to begin with. With Sade's presence gone, Dune's mind slowly began to clear. As he considered the choices that had just been laid before him, one thought was pushing away all others. Mae. If Sade's words were to be trusted, Mae was in almost as much danger as he was. He wasn't sure what these people wanted(although if he had had more time to collect his thoughts, the answer would have been painfully obvious), but one thing they weren't going to get was Mae.

After weighing his options, Dune decided the best thing to do was follow Sade's advice and lead whoever was following him away from Mae. He scribbled a quick note for her and left it on the table:

_"Dear Mae,_

_I am sorry to do this to you now and in such a manner, but I must leave again on the Committee's request. There is no time to explain what is going on, but you must trust me and believe I will be back as soon as I possibly can, and that I have no choice on this. I am not safe here, and I fear for your safety as much as my own. Please be careful until I return, and know that I love you, always._

_Your loving husband,_

_Dune_

_P.S. I WILL return, Mae. On my life, I will return for you. Even if the world should fall, I will return."_

Saying Mae would not be happy with his sudden disappearance was an understatement, but there really seemed to be no choice. Stay here and be attacked again, possibly while Mae is present, or escape and hope that his pursuers leave Mae out of whatever it is they wanted. The idea of her being taken as a hostage occurred to him, and not just by his unknown attackers. He did not trust Sade any more than he trusted Cassandra's allies. But there was so little time to think! His analytical mind needed time to consider alternate paths. For now there only seemed one clear route to take. As much as it pained him to do so, Dune took what he felt was the most logical step and left the apartment, his trusty hat in hand, and the crystal safely in his pocket, wondering more than once if he would ever be seeing it - or Mae - again.

At the ground floor of the building, three familiar faces were waiting for Dune as he stepped out of the elevator. The first and foremost caused Dune to inwardly wince. Adam Kruz. No surprise there, but Kruz's pale, flabby face was not a welcome sight. The other two members of Sade's entourage did take Dune by surprise, however. Alex Figaro and...the elderly shopkeeper of his building's ground level shop? Dune glanced first at Alex, then cautiously at the shopkeeper. Alex's expression gave away nothing about his feelings at seeing Dune again, but the shopkeeper seemed in high enough spirits. He gave Dune a big grin and waved two of his fingers in a sort of salute. As if to accentuate the shopkeeper's good humor, his unusual little pet jumped out from behind him and waved its paw at Dune in an attempt to mimic its master, with and equally large grin on its pudgy face. At this, Dune couldn't help but give up a small smile. Kruz was the first to speak up, abruptly cutting through the good vibes that seemed to come from the small creature and its master.

"It's about time you got here, Mr. Karn! We thought something might have happened to you. No time for idle chit-chat in such a vulnerable location. If you want to live, you will follow us. Quickly!" Kruz shot a glance in the shopkeeper's direction. "I trust you are ready to leave as well?"

The shopkeeper's smile wavered for a moment, but he seemed to not mind the current situation nearly as much as everyone else.

"Of course! My shop is all closed up and my little compadre is by my side. I have everything I need. Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

"Good. A ride from the Committee is waiting for us outside. Let's go."

The group of five silently made its way to the car waiting at the foot of the building. The car was a sleek black vehicle, with no visible seems or bumps anywhere on its smooth surface. It looked to Dune like a large, somewhat flattened bullet, ready to fire off at phenomenal speeds the second he got in. It seemed this was an actual manually-operated vehicle, something Dune had seen on Narsille's streets a few times during important gatherings of the Committee, but never driven in himself. Dune was going to arrive at their headquarters with style this time. Alex still had the same emotionless look on his face, and refused to even look at Dune, but the shopkeeper was positively brimming with good will. Alex got into the driver's seat and waiting morosely for the others to be seated behind him. Once they were safely seated in the car and on their way, the shopkeeper spoke something into Dune's ear that made his eyes almost leap out of his head.

"Hello, Dune! Since it seems we will be spending some time together, I might as well introduce myself proper. The name's Indra, Professor Indra of the Narsille Meteorological Observation Committee, if you want to get technical. You can call me Indie, though. All my friends do. Nice to meet you for the first time after all these years behind the counter!"

Dune had no reply to this at first. _Professor Indra_? THE Professor Indra? This man, whom Dune had known for years only as the pleasant, albeit unusually private, shopkeeper at the foot of his building, was the head and founder of the Committee's weather control facility, the genius responsible for the perpetual good weather Narsille had enjoyed for over thirty years. It soon dawned on him that he was sitting among what were very likely the two greatest minds in Narsille. How had he ever gotten himself into such a group? His scientific side relished the opportunity to rub elbows with Professors Figaro and Indra, Narsille's own personal Masters of heaven and earth. His more human side still knew the danger he was in, though, and Kruz's unpleasant, yet thankfully now silent, presence in the cabin of the car kept him from turning into a giddy schoolboy.

"Professor Indra...it is an honor to meet you! I don't...what exactly is going on? I have so many questions! I..."

"Now hold your horses, Dune. There will be plenty of time for all that in a bit. I'm sure the fellows at the Committee will want to fill you in on your situation. You always were the inquisitive type. Always wanting to know about every little trinket I had on display before you bought something. And I can't remember how many times you tried to weasel an explanation out of me about my friend here..."

Indra softly patted his furry companion on the head, eliciting a squeak and a bit of the creature's gibberish sounding kupo-language. Indra nodded and laughed, as if he actually understood what it was saying.

"Please, Professor, can't I at least know about your involvement here? If you want me to trust you at all, I think I deserve to know exactly why you were posing as a shopkeeper in my building for so long! Were you spying on me?"

"Now wait just a minute there, sonny! I'm no spy, and I wasn't posing as anything. I really did keep a legitimate shop of rare artifacts for my own personal enjoyment. Ever since the completion of my weather grid system, Narsille hasn't let me travel around the world like I used to. They felt an old man like me gallivanting around the world was a security risk, I suppose. That's one piece of paper I regret signing, let me tell you!"

At this remark, Kruz gave a grunt of disdain, but said nothing. He was content to keep out of any sort of idle banter with people he considered to be beneath him. This was just business. A personal request from Eva, nothing more. The sooner this was over and he was back where he belonged, the better. Kruz never liked getting his hands dirty running errands, and preferred to keep himself locked away scheming of ways to further his career from the shadows. Gofer work like this was not his idea of progress.

Seeming not to hear Kruz's disapproval, or simply not caring, Indra continued talking. "I've always been a man of culture, so to speak. You can keep the man away from the world, but you can't keep keep the world away from the man. Opening a curio shop allowed me to keep in touch with many...interesting people and cultures from all over the world while keeping the Committee off my back. Trust me when I say the location of my shop was just a coincidence. Your building is right at the center of the crossroads of the city, and I figured many folk who I'd like to learn about would pass by there. And I was right. I met you didn't I? You were always one of my favorite customers, even if you rarely bought anything."

Indra laughed and gave Dune a friendly jab with his elbow. Dune's mood was definitely improving, in spite of his current situation. There was something infectious about Indra's good will.

"So why keep your identity a secret, then? And what are you doing here now?"

"Always right to the point! That's what I like about you Dune, a scientist through and through. Well, I've always been a private man, you have to understand that. I enjoy learning about other people's lives, not touting my own. If I let word get around I was the main man behind Narsille's glorious weather, and the leading mind in meteorology, I'd never get a moment's peace. As for what I'm doing here now, I'm afraid I can't get into that, and I'd suggest you not bring this up to Alex, either. Let's just say we're keeping a very old promise. You may not have known this, but Alex, Mobius and I go way back. We were the Big Three of the natural sciences back in the day, and boy did we have some grand adventures back then. I thought those days were over, but things have a way of coming back when you least expect them to. Yes, they certainly do..."

For the first time, Indra's expression showed concern, and a look Dune could not readily identify. Fear, or perhaps dread. It was not a look that suited such a free spirit, and it worried Dune. Indra seemed to sense Dune's unease, and instantly regained his former attitude.

"Now, now, don't you fret one bit. We're going to take good care of you, and if anyone gives you trouble, you just let us know. We may not have as much pull as we used to, but Alex and I have enough to keep a friend as safe as a bug in a rug. And hey, look at that! There's the headquarters coming up, and I've done nothing but talk your ear off the whole time!"

"It's alright Professor, I consider it an honor to talk with you. Surely you will be staying with me for a while longer?"

"Of course! Alex and I won't leave your side until you're back in your apartment with that lovely wife of yours. Oh, and call me Indie, please. I won't stand for any of this 'Professor Indra' crap."

The car now slowed down and came to stop at the entrance to the large dome-like structure that housed the inner workings of the Committee. Now Professor "Indie" Indra turned his attention to Kruz. "Well, Adam, we're here. Are you going to show our guest some hospitality, or are you going to continue to sit there and glower at us?"

Kruz was visibly offended by Indie's comment, but did not say anything out of turn. He simply put on his best false smile and got out of the vehicle, holding the door for Indie and Dune. No point getting into an argument with this uppity old fart. His time was over, and it was Kruz's time to shine now. Once Dehr showed up, he would be able to show his true talent for malevolence. His skills were wasted in the presence of such insignificant company. Just keep smiling.


	25. Demons Within, 'A Meeting of Minds'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.3 - A Meeting of Minds**

"I can assure you that there is absolutely nothing to worry about, Mr. Karn."

President Dehr's soothing voice echoed across the mostly empty conference room of the Committee headquarters. She was still dressed in her official skirt and blazer and had her most diplomatic face on, but Dune's second meeting with the President of the Committee was going to be anything but a formal occasion. Other than Dehr and himself, the only other people present were Kruz, Alex, and Professor Indie and of course his little furry friend. Sade was nowhere to be seen, and yet Dune could still feel an unnatural warmth in the room. It was as if his memories were calling up that dreadful heat in Sade's absence, making sure Dune remembered the danger every bone in his body told him he was in. Every so often Dune would clutch at his pocket with the crystal in it, half-expecting Sade to jump out from the shadows to snatch it at any moment.

The coolness of the crystal only caused him grief now. With every touch Dune could hear faint whisperings of Doom, accusing him of thousands of gruesome images of pain and suffering that he would never think of committing. It also reminded him of the gulf that had grown between him and Mae. Dune knew this was not completely the crystal's doing, but he felt a certain guilty sense of relief to place the blame squarely on its smooth black surface and empty stare. Dune's relationship with the crystal had grown into one of love and hate in equal amounts. He longed for its cold allure, and yet despised the hateful voice behind it. If Sade tried to take it now, Dune would no doubt ask to have it taken from him with complete earnestness, all the while fighting to the death anyone who actually tried.

"We are taking steps to ensure that you are comfortably housed until this current situation is taken of. There are barracks for just these types of circumstances beneath the Committee headquarters. You probably caught a glimpse of them on your way here from the Figaro when you returned from the Thanas."

This caught Dune's attention. Indeed, there had been a great many passages jutting off from the main one he and Captain Bismark had followed. At the time Dune's mind had been preoccupied with the crystal and whether to tell the Committee about it or not, and he only pondered their destinations briefly. Surely the real heart of the Committee was down there, at the end of one of those labyrinthian tunnels. Who knows what else lurked beneath the clean and orderly streets of Narsille, secretly inhabiting the dark maze within the city's complex understructure? It seemed Dune was going to see a small portion of this hidden city within a city for himself.

He wasn't going to fall prey to Dehr's sweet siren's voice and go down to the depths without any questions, though. He spoke up now, cutting through Dehr's pretty words almost mid-sentence. He was aware of the impropriety of his questioning, but didn't care now. Now was the time for answers.

"Exactly what _is_ the situation, Madam President?" Dune asked with a slight note of defiance in his voice.

Kruz looked at Dune as if he had just been slapped by the man. His mouth opened slightly and his eyes bulged out of his head, but he kept his tongue. This was Dehr's show.

Dehr only looked at Dune pleasantly for a moment, then nodded and laughed softly. It was subtle, but this was a sure sign to those that knew her that Dehr was taken by surprise, and anything but happy about it. She was not about to bend to this man's will, but surely throwing him a bone wouldn't hurt? Sade might not be here(oh, but he was always there in spirit, wasn't he? The man's almost inhuman capacity for _knowing_ never ceased to amaze her), but Dehr was privy to enough of his plans and the master plan of his sect to know how to handle a pawn who tried to move beyond its allotted role. _She_ was the Queen in this game, no one else. She gave Dune her motherly look and smiled serenely, no trace of her offense visible on her countenance.

"I suppose you deserve to know that much. A month ago, a bloody and violent coup took place in the nation of Jidorik. The nation had been divided into East and West for quite some time and a constant civil war was tearing the country apart. A close associate and ally of ours, Prince Ralse, had been on the verge of unifying them once more, but was lost during the coup. It was a highly regrettable outcome to what we had hoped would be a step closer to total world peace..."

Dehr shook her head solemnly. It was true that Ralse's defeat was a very regrettable incident. No one could have predicted the tenacity of the West, and she wondered just what they were planning for Narsille. Dehr did not trust Ralse, but she held a certain admiration for him. She knew what he thought of Narsille and the Committee, and he was right to think so, but you'd never be able to tell in any public gatherings with them. In the end, his plans were the same as hers, afterall. They were rivals in the game of power, and they both played the game well.

Ralse was a man after her own heart, lusting only for power and not letting anything stand in his way to the top. He had an appreciation for power, knew its many forms and nuances, and wielded it with the same careful hand as she. But more than that, he understood that beauty was also power, and was one of the few among those oily East Jidorik nobles that seemed to realize this. Ralse was truly a rare specimen; a perfect example of elegant ruthlessness. She did regret the loss of this man, yes, but not just because of the blow his disappearance delivered to her plans. Had the two of them not been so obsessed with themselves and their own machinations, a thing of real beauty and power may have formed, and perhaps much bloodshed would have been averted.

"After Ralse was dethroned, a truly savage rebel claimed leadership of the Jidorik empire. This rebel goes by the title General Draco Christophe, and is as dangerous as any man alive. I cannot stress how important it is you understand this, Mr. Karn. It was this man who sent that assailant to your apartment earlier today. I commend you for not letting them take you. Don't let today's victory lull you into a false sense of security, though! There are many more under his command, and I fear you will not be able to hold them all off. This is why I have decided to extend the protection of the Committee to you. I can assure you that our facilities are the most secure in the world. You couldn't be in better hands than ours."

Despite Dehr's seeming candor, Dune was not satisfied. The burning question on his mind still had not been addressed, and so he pressed further.

"But what about _me_? What do I have to do with all this? Why does everything seem to keep coming back to me?" Dune said eagerly, almost with frantic sincerity. He remembered his talk with Captain Bismark about his discovery in the desert, and wanted to know just how much the Committee knew about it, and about him.

Now all the eyes of the room went to Dehr, wondering just how much she would tell this man of his role in the game. Everyone present knew some of what was going on in varying degrees and directions, but Dune's involvement was the grayest of the areas. Just how much was Dehr going to reveal here, in this room?

Kruz was stunned into silence. Such boldness! If that man knew the answer to that question he would not be so defiant and eager for more. Still, Kruz was admittedly curious as to how much of the truth Dehr would impart on him. Surely she would not tell him everything? No, of course not. Not even he knew everything, as connected as he was. But even the most basic details could be too much. Kruz knew she could handle herself, but Dehr had to be very careful on this.

Alex, who until this point had been quietly looking down at his hands and not paying much attention to what was going on around him, looked up and peered intently at Dehr. Images of half-forgotten memories began swimming to the surface of his mind like bloated corpses finally floating back into the light after a long and silent sleep. He knew Dune was treading on dangerous ground with those questions, but it was not his place to stop him from seeking the truth. Is that not exactly what he had done over thirty years ago with Indie and Mobius? The truth was a horrible thing, but if Dune was half the scientist Alex though he was, he could take it, and perhaps more...

Professor Indie also looked up with quiet intent, stroking his long white beard and waiting patiently for Dehr's response. He knew the magnitude of those words just as Alex and Kruz did. He didn't like digging up the past again after all these years, but he knew it had to happen eventually. Prophecies must be kept, and promises too, you see. And just when he thought things were settling down and he could enjoy his final years. Even his companion seemed to sense the gravity of the current moment, and looked cautiously back and forth between his master and Dehr, sensing danger in the words that were just spoken.

Dehr did not seem affected by the sudden rise in attention. She was the one in control here, and she had been expecting this question after Dune had brashly opened his mouth the first time. She would not be caught off guard a second time.

"The truth, Mr. Karn," Dehr said with a faint air of a school teacher handing out a particularly weighty assignment, "is that you have something they want. You have something a great many want, actually. I believe you know what I am talking about."

Now it was Dune's turn to look stunned, although not surprised. So here it was. She really was going to call him out on the crystal. The question now was if he would somehow be able to remain in control of it, or if this meeting would take a very sudden, very chilling turn for the worse. Broken flashes of memory from his encounter with Cassandra rushed into his mind, devoid of meaning save the intense cold and fear that overwhelmed him during those fateful moments. As if sensing Dune's growing unease, the crystal shot a flare of coldness through his shirt and straight into his heart. Dune shivered.

_No one will take it from us. Kill them all. It will be glorious._

Taking his reaction for acceptance, Dehr continued speaking. What she failed to realize was that the look that she saw in Dune's eyes was not fear or guilt, as she assumed, but death.

"Yes, I see you do know what I am talking about, although I think you don't understand your role yet. I am going to be frank with you, Mr. Karn. Much of this has been deemed classified to all but a very select group of people. You should feel honored to be learning as much of this situation, _your_ situation, as you are. But you are a man of science, and I hope you can appreciate your position. You are currently in possession of an artifact of great importance, which you excavated during the Thanas expedition, and have kept secret from us since then. Do not ask how I know this, but be confident that I do indeed know."

_She's going to take it. You must stop her. Do it now._

"This relic was thought lost for many centuries, and the Committee has gone to great lengths to secure it in recent years. In the wrong hands, it could cause great suffering and destruction. The Committee has been dutifully trying to prevent this at all costs. This is what the Jidorik rebel leader Christophe is after, and he will not hesitate to kill you to get it. You must believe that we at the Committee do not hold you responsible for your choice of actions, poor as they may be. The relic has a very strong pull on whoever holds it, as I am sure you have noticed. This is why we did not take it from you when we first suspected you had found it..."

_Don't trust her words. She wants what is ours for herself. Kill her! NOW!_

"...and why we will not attempt to take it from you now. Instead, we will protect you as the official carrier of the artifact. I feel this is in the best interests to both of us, and will avoid unnecessary conflict."

Dune was at a loss for words. A surge of warm relief rushed over him, quelling the murderous impulses of the crystal and bringing him back to his senses. So, the crystal would be his for a little longer. Since it seemed President Dehr was on the same page as himself as far as the owner of the crystal was concerned, Dune felt he could ask a few questions his scientific mind had been dying to unravel.

"Y, yes...I think that will work, Madam President." Dune struggled a bit, but he was slowly gaining control. Whatever had just passed over him, it was losing its grasp, and Dune's mind was quick to push it away and not dwell on it. "But if I may, what exactly did I find? As an archeologist, the significance of this discovery has intrigued me. It is unlike anything I have ever unearthed."

Dehr seemed pleased with Dune's present course of action. For a moment, she thought she sensed a sharp drop in temperature, and the unmistakable feeling of dread and danger that seemed to emanate from Sade when he was provoked. She didn't like seeing any part of Sade's powerful presence coming from this man. The rest of the company seemed to feel the same way, and a wave of relief spread throughout the room as tensions eased and a more relaxed route of questioning took shape.

"I am glad we are in agreement, then. As for the relic...I'm afraid we do not have much information on it. It is considered a holy object by the Order of the Pearl, and there are many ancient scrolls describing its power and significance in their religion. I trust you have heard of the Order?"

Dune had of course heard of the infamous Order of the Pearl, as had everyone who called Narsille their home. Pearl was a major religious organization in Narsille, and the only organization that was almost as large as the Committee. Unlike the Committee, Pearl kept its affairs mostly to itself, and rarely did members make public appearances outside of their churches and holy places. Dune generally did not pay much attention to the group and its activities within the city, and considered them for the most part to be fools who blindly based their life on faith rather than logic.

To have a piece of their world suddenly thrust into his world was disconcerting to Dune, and he was more than bit skeptical. The first question that entered his coolly logical mind was "Okay, so what is the _real _nature of this artifact?" He did not speak this thought though, aware that believers came in all guises, and it was wise not to offend anyone present. Dune just nodded to confirm he knew of the organization. The answers would come in time, he supposed. If not from the Committee, then from himself. He was an archeologist after all, and discovery was in his blood.

"Good. Then you will understand why it is important that we keep this a closely guarded secret. Recent efforts on my part to further unify Narsille have allowed a cooperative effort between the Committee and the Order in the securing of this artifact and keeping it out of the hands of those who would use it for destructive purposes. I am confident that we now are one step closer to total peace, thanks to your efforts."

"I thank you for your kind words, Madam President, but what of myself? Am I doomed to be locked in a vault underground with my discovery forever?" Dune said jokingly, but a part of him feared that this was exactly what the Committee had in mind.

"Oh no, of course not. As I said, much of the nature of the artifact is unknown to us, but what is known is still highly classified information. You will be escorted to our maximum security facility for only a brief stay, I assure you. As you may recall, there is another mission planned for you in the approaching future. I believe this mission will shed much light on the artifact, and will hopefully end your burden of keeping it."

"And what of this coming mission? What can you tell me about it?"

Yes, things were going well indeed. Dehr had the archeologist eating out of the palm of her hand. She knew if she kept feeding him useless facts, but no doubt intriguing to a scientist such as him, she would be able to guide him away from the real issue and keep him in the dark a little longer. There will come a time when all the cards will be laid on the table and no amount of manipulating will keep him, and the rest of the world, from knowing the truth in all its terrible finality, but for now things were still able to be maintained. Dehr would hold on to the reigns as long as fate allowed.

"Hmm, yes, we have made great progress in determining the path of the next mission. You see, your artifact is not unique. The ancient scrolls of the Order led us to the one you found, and they hint at the location of another as well. Its location was quite difficult to pinpoint, but using the data we received from the Thanas expedition, we have determined the next artifact to be in the deepest part of the Mordic Ocean. It will not be an easy mission, but Captain Bismark will be accompanying you once more, and his experience should be more than adequate to ensure your success."

"The Mordic? That ocean is known for unusually vicious and unpredictable storms. You are right that it will not be easy!"

This news was disheartening to Dune. He was never a fan of the open seas, and the heart of the Mordic Ocean was probably the worst place on earth he could picture himself being forced to lead a dig on. His normally logical mind gave way to the numerous stories of lost ships, sea monsters and living storms that routinely came from that part of the world. In answer to the images his fearful imagination conjured up, his stomach gave a sudden lurch and a cold sweat broke out all over his body.

"Why do I have to go on this mission? Personally, I would rather you locked me up in a cell in the deepest part of the city than send me to that wretched ocean. You have to understand, I don't work well on the water. Sending me to the Mordic is almost as illogical as sending the Captain into the Thanas."

"I'm afraid that goes beyond what we are capable of telling you at this point, as I told Captain Bismark during our previous meeting. You two are the only ones qualified for these particular missions. Although this time we will allow a bit more help, to account for the increase in potential danger. That is why I asked for Professor Indra to join us. He is our best mind when it comes to weather patterns, and I believe he will be of great help in navigating around the storms known to that area. Also, he personally requested to join this mission when he heard about Captain Bismark heading it. Lastly, we have decided to split this mission into two teams to heighten the odds of success. Captain Bismark will be heading one, with you and Professor Indra under him. The other team will be headed by another reputable marine biologist and sea captain. His name is Captain Jonah Levi."

Both Indie and Alex straightened up in their chairs so suddenly that they nearly fell over. They gave identical sharp glances at Dehr, and then at each other. This news did not sit well with them, and was not expected. Indie was the first to speak up, his normal carefree demeanor gone.

"Levi? _Levi?_ That man has no place on a mission like this. He's a scoundrel and as untrustworthy as a rabid dog. You can't be serious in sending him for such an important mission? Captain Bismark will not take that piece of information lightly, no sirree! Those two are as heated rivals as I've ever seen. Like night and day, they are. You send Levi and you're just asking for a mutiny!"

Dehr seemed to expect this outburst as well, and only shook her head. Levi wasn't as untrustworthy as Professor Indra thought, not by a long shot.

"Do not worry about the other team, Professor. Captain Levi will be captaining his own ship and will only have minimal, if any, contact with your team if all goes according to plan. We have already discussed these matters with him, and he is more than willing to go on this expedition, even with your captain manning the second team."

"Of course _he'd_ be glad to go!" Indie interjected hotly, "That rat savors every ounce of misery he can get out of Mobius, and would never pass up an opportunity to show him up on his own turf. I'm warning you though, he is not a good man, and you'd be a fool to trust him with something like this. You'll regret sending him, I promise you that!"

"Do not concern yourself with Captain Levi's intentions. We trust him, and the Committee does not hire people without due scrutiny. He will work to the best of his abilities to find what we are looking for, and so will you."

"Fine, do what you want, but don't say I didn't warn you when that dog bites you in the ass. As long as he stays out of our way, we'll get the job done."

Dehr seemed to be content with Indra's words, and now turned to back to Dune, who still looked rather pale since the news of his next mission.

"So, do you understand what is ahead of you, Mr. Karn? Any more questions about your mission?"

Dune did not like what was ahead of him one bit, but he understood it. More importantly, he understood that he did not have a choice. He nodded his head and stayed silent for a moment. He had heard enough for now. The more he thought about going back onto the high seas with the kind-hearted, but sometimes dangerously zealous Captain Bismark, the more he wanted to go home and lay down with Mae by his side. It seemed that was not going to happen for a long time, thanks to the crystal and its ever growing influence on his life. He asked one more quick, yet crucial, question before resigning himself to the coming trials.

"What about Mae?"

"She will be taken care of. Do not worry about your wife, Mr. Karn, she is as safe as you are."

For some reason, this did not sit well with Dune. Perhaps because he did not feel very safe at all anymore. He still trusted Dehr's words and knew that they would not let anything happen to her unless they wanted a very uncooperative "Carrier of the Crystal". He said his thanks, and then said no more.

Sensing Dune's resignation to his position and her victory over him in this vital testing of wills, Dehr moved to Alex to end the meeting.

"Professor Figaro, if Dune has no more questions for us, I think it is time to show him to his room. Will you be so kind as to escort him once more? Professor Indra, you may accompany them for now, but we would appreciate it if you return here for a more thorough debriefing tomorrow. I thank you all for your time, and wish for the best in the coming months. Good day, gentlemen."

The three men shifted in their seats and then got up to leave. Kruz leaped up and opened the door for the three, putting on his best "Thank you for coming, now get out of my sight" smile as he shut the door after the scampering pet of Indie's.

"Yes, I suppose it is time to be going, finally. If you would follow me, Dune." Alex had resumed his brooding disposition and looked very much like he looked when he left this room during the last meeting. Like he had just betrayed a friend.


	26. Demons Within, 'Machines and Myths'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.4 - Machines and Myths**

Alex led Dune not back to the entrance of the main hall of the headquarters, but further into the building's massive ground floor. The group moved at a brisk pace straight down the main hall, with many rooms large and small quickly passing into and back out of Dune's sight. The building, at least on this level, looked very much like a typical government office building, with conferences being held in many of the large rooms and workers quietly tending to their bureaucratic responsibilities in the smaller ones. Every once and a while someone would pass by and quickly wave at Alex or Indie(and some of them waved to his strange pet as well), but outside of the conference rooms the building was strangely quiet. It seemed everyone in the building was busy preparing for something big.

Dune took one last glance at the bright welcoming lights and gleaming marble floors of the main hall before Alex abruptly turned a corner, then another, and led them into a narrow corridor with only the bare minimum lighting and a harsh concrete floor. There was not a single door in the small hallway, save one large and tightly shut double door at the end. The door was a rusty red and bore the crossed pickaxe and feather that was the city's symbol. A low hum of some large machine, probably a generator, could be heard coming from behind and below the doors. There were no signs posted anywhere, and no other sign of human life save themselves. Occasionally one of the dim bulbs hanging above their heads would flicker, threatening to go out completely, then come back on. The air in the hallway also seemed to be less fresh than the air in the rest of the building, and much cooler. It was a mixture of the artificial air of underground habitation and the more alive air of the surface. Dune wondered more than once if it really was the air in the room that felt cold and dead, or just himself.

The stark contrast between the two areas seemed to have no effect on Indie or Alex, who no doubt had traveled this passage many times in the past. Even Indie's pet seemed right at home in this dank space, much to Dune's embarrassment. What could possibly be behind those doors? As long as his companions knew what they were doing, Dune guessed he shouldn't be worrying so much. He still clutched at his pocket in spite of his best efforts to remain calm.

In fact, Indie's and Alex's moods seemed to be improving as they made their way further from Kruz and Dehr and closer to the oil and steam of the mechanical underground caverns of Narsille. As they made their way towards the door Indie breathed in deeply to take in the aroma of hard working machines, then let it out noisily, with an appeased look on his face. He looked at Alex and gave him one of his large toothy grins. For the first time since Dune had seen him on the cat walk outside the Figaro, Alex smiled himself.

With a loud hissing sound and spurt of steam, the large rusty-looking doors opened automatically for Alex, and the group stepped inside a small cabin that looked exactly like the elevator Dune and the Captain had ridden in. This time the elevator was going down, and from the look of the tall list of buttons on the side panel of the cabin, this elevator went way down. Alex casually pressed one of the buttons at the very bottom of the panel, then settled himself in for a long wait as the doors clanged shut.

For the first time since leaving their meeting with Dehr, Indie spoke up. His voice was harsh, but there was still that good humor mingled with his words.

"So, Alex! What do you think made that mangy old seadog Jonah Levi decide to get involved in all this? Government work like this isn't really his style."

Alex quickly glanced at Dune, then decided it was pointless to keep acting so guarded and glum. He let out a gruff laugh of resignation and answered Indie in the same harsh, but happy, tone.

"Same as always. Money. Jonah has always been a greedy bastard. I'm sure the Committee paid him his ship's weight in gil for this mission. Another chance to make a fool of Mobius is probably part of it as well."

"I had really hoped we'd seen the last of that man, but he's like a cockroach. No matter how many times you step on him, he keeps coming back to foul up your day. You want to watch out for him, Dune. If you think the Committee crew's bad, wait 'til you get a load of this guy. He's not to be trusted, or pitied."

Dune looked up from his reverie, startled at being included in the conversation between the two old friends. He wasn't sure what Indie meant by pity, but it sounded like this Jonah Levi was not someone he wanted to meet.

"Uh...yes, I'll try to remember that Profes...I mean, Indie."

"Hah, there you go! I'm not like Mobius, you see. He cringes every time someone calls him anything but 'Captain'. The man has entirely too much pride in his position, I say. He's a helluva good man, though. Exact opposite of Levi. From what I heard from Alex, he took good care of you during the expedition on the Thanas. With him and me along for the next one, you couldn't ask for better security. We're going to need it, though. The Mordic Ocean is not a good place for anyone to travel too far into. I sure hope we find what we're supposed to be looking for fast and get the hell out of there before things get ugly."

At this, Indie leaned over to Dune and spoke to him confidingly, but not so much that Alex couldn't still easily hear everything he said. There were no secrets between these two men. Indie did this more out of respect for Dune's obvious unease than secrecy.

"Speaking of which, that was some move you tried to pull on the Committee by hiding that crystal of yours, Dune! What in blazes were you thinking? You can't play games with them, not when they are making the rules. I know you may find this hard to believe, but you would've been killed if they didn't still need you so bad. You couldn't have known that when you lied to them, though...right?"

Now Dune was feeling quite uncomfortable with the conversation, but he felt he could trust these two men. They definitely seemed to know much about what was going on, perhaps as much as the Committee? Maybe Dune could get some answers from them that he wouldn't have dared push Dehr for. He gulped and tried his best to sound as calm and collected as they did when he spoke.

"No, I really don't know anything about what's been going on since I got back from the Thanas. I just...acted on instinct, I suppose. Many strange things have happened to me since then, and no one seems to want to explain them to me. Do either of you know what is going on? What did I find? And why am I so important in all of this? Please, if you know something I don't, tell me!"

Both Indie and Alex remained silent for a few moments. They looked like they communicated telepathically almost. The many years spent in each other's company made it easy for them to come to agreements without needing to speak. A simply look or gesture was usually enough for them to get a message across to the other. After what seemed an eternity to Dune, Alex nodded at Indie. Indie nodded as well, then cleared his throat.

"I think...that you're not ready to know what we know, Dune."

Dune gave a start of disapproval before Indie even started his next sentence. But Indie waved him off with his gnarled hand and smiled again.

"Hold on there, buster. We can tell you some things you may find interesting, yet. How about this - we'll ask _you_ some questions first, and I think the answers you give will tell us what we can tell you. The big stuff you'll be learning soon enough, if you play your cards right down here. Now then, I think Alex will start."

Ask _him_ questions? But Dune didn't know anything at all about what was going on. What could he possibly tell them that they don't already know? Dune may have been lost by Indie's request, but Alex seemed to be on the same track and crossed his arms over his chest and looked squarely at Dune.

"Okay, Dune. What exactly do you think happened out there in the Thanas Desert a month ago? Do you believe what the Committee said about the storm? And what I said myself about the destroyed search tower?"

Dune didn't know what to say to this. He found the claims by the Committee that there was no storm, and Dr. Atma's decree that he had actually caused those injuries himself to be ridiculous, and yet they had proof while he did not. As for Alex's own statements during the meeting, he didn't like them, but they seemed true enough, and came from a man he trusted more than Dehr, Atma, or certainly Sade. Besides, did he really want to call this man a liar when he held his life in his hands?

"Well...I find it hard to believe what they said after being there myself, but I am a man of science and if the facts are laid before me, I have no choice but to accept them. As much as my own memory seems to disagree, I have to side with both you and the Committee on those matters."

Both Indie and Alex couldn't help but laugh, although they didn't do so mockingly.

"No, Dune, I wasn't lying. And neither was the Committee. And most importantly of all, neither were the reports. According to every piece of technology we have at our disposal, and all of our knowledge and experience in interpreting it, there was no storm in the Thanas, and that tower was destroyed by the hand of man, not nature."

This further confirmation of his own false memories hit Dune hard. If there was no storm and everyone on both sides agreed on this, _then what happened?_

"I think Indie should take it from here. After all, he is the premier meteorologist in Narsille, and if I'm not mistaken he carried out the investigation into the weather patterns in the Thanas and wrote up the final reports himself, am I right?"

Indie looked like he was enjoying this little game of theirs immensely. He gathered himself up and continued Alex's train of thought.

"Of course you are, Alex. No one knows the ways of the weather better than me, Dune. I can say with absolute certainty that every readout on every instrument measured zero change in the conditions over the Thanas that day. I checked them all myself and the figures do not lie. But...lying and simply not being aware of the truth are two very different things. I'm afraid what we have here is a case of woefully ignorant machines. It breaks my heart to see such lacking in our technology."

Dune wasn't sure what they were talking about, but they sure seemed to be having a good time explaining themselves. It was as if they had been waiting a long time to discuss this with him, and they were savoring the moment as long as they could. Dune wasn't enjoying himself at all and was impatient to get to the real issue here.

"So was there a storm or wasn't there?"

"Oh there was a storm alright. A damn big one from the looks of things. Just not the kind that shows up on any radar or computer screen. The storm that occurred in the Thanas that day was the kind that, if it doesn't want to be detected, won't be. What you got yourself caught right in the middle of was _magical_ in origin, Dune. M-A-G-I-C. Hah! What do you say to that?"

"_I think you're theory is crazier than the Committee's," _is what Dune thought, but he was too taken aback to say much of anything yet. The two greatest scientists in Narsille. Two people who Dune had practically idolized as unwavering bastions of rational thought in the face of the often times irrational masses. These two men...spouting stories about _magic_? Magic. Dune had no use for this word. How could Alex and Indie expect him to take them seriously when they were jabbering on like foolish children trying to explain to each other the world they were just experiencing for the first time? But these two men were anything but children, and definitely not fools. No. They must still be playing a game with him. Magic. Yeah right. And dragons and demons too.

_Oh but there are demons, child. Blacker than your darkest nightmares and more real than your deepest fears. Or have you forgotten me already?_

It was a small voice, and Dune didn't hear it(or perhaps chose not to), but he felt it in every inch of his body as the crystal filled him with a sudden cold reminder of its presence.

"You're joking, right? There's obviously no such thing as magic."

"But there is," Alex spoke up, still grinning, although there was no joy in his grin now. "Is it not a scientist's job to prove what is real and what is fantasy? What are you looking for in this world, Dune, if not the truth? And the truth is, there is magic. Behind every layer of science we have constructed there is a second, deeper layer that still defies our best efforts to understand it. Magic."

"But! I refuse to believe such silly child's tales. Magic _is _fantasy. You don't even have to have the cold rationality of a scientist to see that! I think you two are getting too old for this if that is what you really believe."

"You refuse to believe? _Refuse?_ Listen to yourself. I thought better of you than this, Dune. It is not your job to pick and choose what you may believe, and it is definitely not your job to outright refuse the truth when it is offered to you. What your job is, Dune, is doing your absolute best to uncover the lies and false leads that confront your mind. You sort through them, picking out the ones that don't stand up to scrutiny. When all other avenues have been exhausted, what you have left must be the truth, however improbable, or fantastic, it may seem. In this case, magic is the only path left for us to pursue. The question we are asking you now is this: Will you follow this path, will you allow yourself to see the truth?"

What was Dune supposed to say to this? Never in his life had he been faced with a problem like this. He had always laughed at the people who blindly followed their faith, and ignored the truth of science that was right in front of them when it didn't flow with their ideas...and yet here he was acting as stony as the people he had mocked about his own personal religion of science. Or was he?

No! Science is about rationality, and every scientific instinct in his body told him the idea of magic(just trying to take the word seriously made Dune cringe) was as irrational as that of gods and devils and all the other religious guff he had put up with over the years. There _was_ another explanation, a logical one, and he would find it. He was not going to fall victim to the pretty words that were being thrown at him. He was not a sheep to be herded. The world he lived in wasn't perfect, and it certainly didn't make sense sometimes, but he wasn't going to fall back on some utopian catch all of "magic" to ease his mind. The road of a scientist was a difficult one, and he would not be lured off track by easy answers.

"I don't believe you."

Both scientists looked like they had expected as much. They sighed and said no more for the rest of the ride down. After what seemed like a very long silence, the elevator slowed and then shuddered to a stop, the hissing of the opening doors the only sound. Alex led them out and into a familiar tangle of passages. Although the familiarity was deceiving. Surely, these halls looked like the same ones Dune had glimpsed when he entered Narsille with the Captain, but they must be many miles away from the entrance of the city. Dune felt that if Alex and Indie weren't around, he could get lost in these passages for the rest of his life. He suddenly felt ashamed of his stubbornness, but what choice did he have? He wasn't going to convert to their cult of magic at the drop of a hat.

Alex led them further along, veering first left then right as he maneuvered his way through the maze-like passages. The air down here was thin and musty, and the same low hum of generators filled every corridor. It was just as dimly lit here as it was in the corridor above, but the passages were wider, and taller. They looked like hallways for giants to Dune. He wondered just what the purpose of all these intertwining passages could be. Perhaps they were old mining tunnels that were converted into hallways when the city started its technological phase and no longer needed mining for resources. Or maybe they were designed this way on purpose to keep unwanted guests out? Or in? Dune could only guess, but he felt the answer was mostly likely all three.

Eventually Alex led him to a large open area that was better lit and looked like it was in much better condition than the hallways around it. The room was in the shape of a large circle, and many more hallways were flowing away from it like spokes from a wheel. Signs were posted above each of the larger hallways, making it easy to know which path to take to get to wherever you were going, at least until you got out of the main area. If the other hallways were like the one they had just left, you were still apt to get very lost very quick without a guide once you left the room.

The area seemed to be the central hub of the underground city beneath Narsille, and Dune wondered just how many people worked down here. Lived down here? This wasn't the kind of place he thought he would enjoy living in for too long, and hoped his stay here would really be a brief one, like Dehr had promised. Dune was not like Indie or Alex. He did not like being surrounded by machines and noise and stale air. He was a scientist who preferred to work out in nature, digging in the dirt and exploring real caves, not these artificial abominations.

Alex continued leading Dune down into the hub until they reached a hallway about three-quarters around the circular room from where they came in. The room was surprisingly empty, and despite its vast size had very little machinery in it. There were a few vehicles and lifts to make traveling easier, and televisions scattered about on tables and desks to remind the folk of this world that it was still sunny and bright above, but not much else. It was simply a crossroads where all the hallways connected.

Down the new hallway they went, and Dune wondered just how far away his new home was now. Alex made more twists and turns and at one point almost seemed unsure of where to go next, but regained his former confidence after a brief glance at some well-hidden signs and maps that Dune had not noticed until Alex put his finger on one and traced their route.

A few more minutes of walking and it seemed they had reached their destination. There was nothing special about where they were at all. Dune had half-expected some sort of grim welcoming committee to pad them down and a military style barracks with long lines of rooms with nothing more than bunk beds and sinks in them. What he found was a room strangely similar to his own apartment. It was well lit, well furnished, and even well-ventilated. The air in this room was cool and breezy, and felt just like the real thing. There were several plants to make the place seem more inviting, and the furniture looked like something you'd find in any well-to-do home, not in a bleak internment camp. There was even a television to keep him occupied while he waited. There was no phone or any other means of contacting the outside world, however. Just an intercom system that Alex quickly showed him how to use in case he needed anything.

As Alex and Indie were turning to go, they both stopped at the doorway and looked at Dune carefully. Indie's pet also gave Dune a curious look. Alex was the only one who spoke.

"Well, Dune, this is where we part company for now. We didn't expect you to believe what we had to say so easily, but you must believe nonetheless. The truth is out there, and it's closer than you may think. I think it is time you stopped being a naive child and opened your eyes to the world behind the world. But it is _you_ who must choose to see in the end. That is why we are not forcing you to believe us. We'd be no better than the Committee or the Order of the Pearl if we did that."

"I'm sorry for my reaction before, but you can't honestly expect me to believe in magic in this day and age, especially not on your word alone. As much respect as I have for the both of you, something like that demands proof. If you can show me proof of this 'magic' you think is behind everything, I'll listen to what you have to say more readily. As a scientist I can't turn my head when there is proof in front of me and I can at least offer to listen and be reasonable, even if I still don't fully believe you."

Alex seemed to be encouraged by Dunes words. Maybe he _is_ ready for what's coming. At least more than many would be if given the choice of believing in magic or not. Alex knew it wouldn't matter what anyone believed soon, if the Prophecy was right, but dammit, people deserve to know the truth before it hits them in the face like a sucker punch. Especially Dune. Yes, Alex supposed if there was anyone who deserved to know what was really happening, it was him. The fact that he had the crystal and still lived was proof enough of that.

_Proof._

If that's what Dune wants...

"Listen to me Dune. The proof you seek is right here. Down in these catacombs are many things, not just safe houses or machinery stores. The Order of the Pearl has their most sacred meeting place in these halls, although it is not accessible to the public, or even the workers down here. If you want the truth, then that is where you must go to find it. I will give you what you need to find it, but no more. What you do when you get there is your business, as is getting back here safely and undetected. For now, just sit here and wait. I will contact you when I am ready. Do you understand?"

"I think so...do you really think I can sneak into the Order of the Pearl safely, though? I'm not very skilled in espionage, you know. But, I'm willing to try if it means getting the answers I want."

"Yes, I can see that. I won't lie to you, Dune. It will be dangerous, and even I don't know how much has changed since the last time I visited that place. I'm sure everything you need to know is still there, though. We are going to leave you now, but we will be back when it's time to leave this place. In the meantime, wait for my instructions. That's all I can say, except good luck. Let's go, Indie."

And with a final nod from both of them, Dune was alone.


	27. Demons Within, 'Down Below'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.5 - Down Below**

A great many thoughts passed through Dune's mind as he sat in his prison cell and waited for Alex's promised rescue. Yes, there was no doubt that this was a prison cell to Dune. It looked nice, and had almost all the comforts of home, except the most important ones. His freedom and his wife. There was no lock on his door, and he was free to explore if he chose to, but where would he go? This maze of passages was far too complex for Dune to navigate on his own, and he would only be escaping from presumed safety into assured danger if he tried.

More than once his thoughts flitted to Mae and her reaction to his disappearance. Would she understand that he really was in danger? That _she_ was in danger? Of course she understood Dune's job could be a dangerous one. His most recent homecoming taught her that lesson all too well. But had it ever once occurred to either of them that his job could put her at risk? Dune thought not, and worried that Mae would simply not be able to appreciate the situation they were now in and may put her life in harm's way without realizing it. She was a smart girl, and very strong-willed, but she had led the sheltered and comfortable life of a typical Narsillian citizen and knew little of the real dangers that surrounded the city, and were indeed within the city itself.

As Dune thought about this, a sobering realization came to him. No one in Narsille knew of the dangers. Most of the cities millions of inhabitants had grown complacent in this peaceful fortress, and if something were to happen, they would be as helpless as lambs being led to slaughter. Dr. Atma's cold, jeering face appeared in his mind's eye, with the words "I told you so" echoing across his lips. Yes, it would seem Dr. Atma was right about Narsille's true face all along, and Dune was now stuck in the middle of that quicksand of corruption. Funny that, until Atma had talked to him on the deck of the Figaro that night, Dune had never once considered his life to be anything but idyllic and his home a perfect paradise of technology and peace. Dune marveled at how naive he had been, and how wise Atma seemed by comparison. No wonder the man was always so smug!

Hopefully Dune would not pay for that naiveté as he searched the underground for this meeting place of the Order Alex spoke of. Dune did not trust his abilities to stay undetected, and he trusted his abilities in combat even less. Was this plan really an acceptable risk, or was he foolishly heading to certain death? Alex's plan had better be foolproof, or Dune was in serious trouble. Only a full regiment of troops and weapons would make this escape seem possible in Dune's mind.

Even then, what could all that do against this new force that Alex and Indie had assured him existed? Magic. Dune still could not believe such a thing existed in his world, the real world. Surely they were mistaken. How many times had unseen and unexplainable forces been given that label in the history of scientific endeavors? It seemed obvious to Dune as he rolled the idea around in his head that this "magic" was nothing more than a euphemism - a temporary term his mentors were using until they really understood what was going on. Still, they had seemed so fervent about the idea. So convinced...more convinced than any scientist has a right to be about the world around them. The world of a scientist was one of constant doubt and revision of beliefs. To be as confident as they were that magic existed seemed unlike the experienced scientists he had thought they were. Just what was this "truth" they were guiding him towards? All he could do now, though, was wait patiently for the signal, whatever form it took. He did not wait long.

"Kupo!"

A soft squeak issued from the other side of the door and Dune jumped up in surprise. He recognized that sound. It was Indie's enigmatic pet! THIS was the regiment of troops Alex had sent him?

"Ku-_po!"_ the creature repeated impatiently from behind the large door. It seemed he wanted in.

Dune cautiously got up and opened the door for his little visitor. The creature bounded in immediately and almost ran right into Dune's legs. It fluttered its small wings backwards ferociously to stop itself from crashing, the pom-pom sprouting from its head waving back and forth like some sort of comical pendulum. Dune couldn't help but break a small grin at this display. The grin didn't last long, as Dune realized this was the help that was supposedly going to lead him to the Order's meeting place. Wondering if Indie might not be waiting behind the doors still, Dune ignored the creature for a few moments and watched for any sign of another, more useful, visitor. There was none, and a sharp poke at his knee brought his attention back to the furry little thing at his feet.

"Kupopo! Ku..." The creature's tone was one of hurt pride. The idea that he had insulted the poor creature also amused Dune slightly.

Before Dune could figure out what to make of the unexpected help, a small furry paw was waving at him with a letter clasped between the tiny claws. The letter would hopefully shed some light on what he was supposed to do. Taking the letter politely from the creature, Dune opened it and studied its contents. It looked like it was written in a hurry, with large sloping cursive scrawled across it almost illegibly. At the bottom Dune noted that the letter was from Alex.

"_Dune, you must trust this creature before you. I hope you recognize it as Indie's faithful companion. Don't let its cute and innocent appearance fool you! It is a member of the extremely reclusive Mogri race, affectionately dubbed 'moogles' by Indie. These creatures are highly intelligent beings capable of the same level of thought as us. There are still a great many mysteries surrounding them, and I was not as sure of sending it to you as Indie seemed to be, but I trust him, and so should you. He has dedicated the majority of his later years to studying these creatures, and it is under the guise of science that he is allowed to keep this one within the walls of Narsille. He has taught it much over the years and I am sure it will be able to help you. We have given it instructions on how to get to the central hall of the Order, and I think you will be pleasantly surprised at its ability to get you there safely. These creatures are native to the Narsillian mountains and are adept at underground navigation and stealth. Follow him and do your best to remain unseen. I hope you find the answers you seek. If all goes well we will all see each other before the next mission. I have decided to join Indie in accompanying you, whether the Committee agrees or not. As you will soon find out, you cannot escape destiny, and I feel it is my destiny to see this series of events to the end. Good luck. _

_P.S. - The moogle's name is "Kumiro" and understands human speech, although it cannot speak it. Don't be afraid to talk to it if you are unsure of what to do. You'd be surprised what it is capable of showing with simple gestures and intonations of its voice._

_Alex"_

It was hard to believe this creature, this "moogle" was going to lead him to the Order's meeting place, but he had trusted Indie and Alex this far, and Dune felt he had no choice but to trust them a little further. He put the letter in his pocket and motioned for Kumiro to lead the way. It chirruped happily and waved for him to follow it. Before Dune had a chance to marvel at the seemingly intelligent way it motioned to him, the creature had zipped out of the room and halfway down the corridor in a blur of white fur. It had done this without a sound of any kind, and with such speed that Dune now wondered if he would be able to keep up, or be left behind to wander until he was discovered and detained.

Dune ran as quickly and quietly as he could towards the waiting creature, although he was not nearly as successful at keeping quiet as a moogle. His heavier footsteps echoed loudly against the walls and his breathing was amplified to harsh gasps in the silence. When he reached Kumiro, it put its hands to its ears and shook its head, making a low "puu..." noise as it did. So far Dune was not making the best impression on the little moogle.

"Sorry, I'm not used to covert operations. You'll have to bear with me."

The only reply Dune got was a harshly whispered "_Kuuu!"_ as the moogle put one of its clawed chubby fingers to its lips and cupped his other paw around his ear. Dune knew what that meant: "Don't talk to me, just listen."

Well Alex had said to not be afraid to talk to it, didn't he? Dune waved his hands in futility and motioned to keep going. The creature nodded and continued scurrying down the corridors, now at a slower pace. It was still difficult for Dune to keep up, but he found if he concentrated he could do so with minimal noise. Kumiro rapidly led Dune from one passage to another with an ease and confidence that would have even put Alex to shame. Once or twice it would stop suddenly and motion for Dune to stay where he was and _"Kuuu!"_. In other words, _"Be quiet!"_ Dune did as he was told, and a few moments later a worker would usually walk past where they would have been had Dune been leading the way. The little guy was definitely good at remaining unseen. Now Dune understood why he had never seen these creatures before in all his treks into the mountains behind the city.

After roaming the ill-lit corridors for what seemed to Dune hours, they silently emerged back in the central hub where many lighted signs painted the way forward. Dune wondered if it was really possible to break into the Order's meeting place? Were they really going to make it? It still seemed impossible, but Dune was continually being surprised by his little guide's resourcefulness. Once the two of them had even hidden above a rafter on the ceiling as two workers walked down the same passage as them on an unavoidable beeline. The little creature was stronger than its fat little body and tiny wings suggested, and was actually able to lift Dune off the ground a few feet and help him to the rafters.

As Dune stood looking at the various passages open to them and wondering which one led to the Order's meeting place, Kumiro tugged at his pant leg and pointed at a spot on the ground about four feet from their location under the eaves of the passage they had just came from. Dune looked at the creature quizzically and mouthed that he didn't understand. The moogle shook its finger at Dune and grinned(or at least it might have been a grin, the creatures perpetually cheery face made it hard to distinguish anything but unabashed glee). It quickly bounced over to the spot it had pointed at and then kicked at something on the ground with its foot. A grated hatchway opened up and a small burst of dust shot up from around the opening and now Dune understood. It was a ventilation tunnel traveling under the central hub. Dune returned the moogle's grin admirably and tip-toed over to the opening.

It looked like it would be a tight fit, but Dune would manage. The two of them squeezed into the pitch black tunnel and made their way unseen through the vast room, a constant blast of cold air washing over them as they moved. Dune had to crawl on all fours through the small passage, but Kumiro simply bent forward and walked with a stoop. Its pom-pom made a slight ruffling sound as it brushed against the sides of the tunnel, but that was all the sound it made. After a few minutes they reached a point where the tunnel branched off into at least a dozen other passages. A large fan rotated rapidly at the center of the intersection, sending fresh air throughout the room above. Dune was concerned about the long slashing blades of the fan and hesitated at the sight of them, but his companion just kept on marching forward, forcing Dune to follow.

Without any hesitation, Kumiro veered around the monster fan and into one of the tunnels to the left. Dune stopped when he reached the fan and wondered if he would be able to fit through the small space between the blades and the walls as easily as the moogle had. He was not sure, and was not eager to find out. There wasn't much choice at this point though, and with a sharp intake of air that sucked in his chest as far as it would go, he turned on his side and inched his way carefully around the fan with his shoulders and hips, moving like a giant caterpillar as he undulated his body forward. He couldn't risk extending his arms or legs out and within reach of the deadly edge of the fan. The moogle stared anxiously at Dune as he slowly made his way around the fan, but it made no motions to hurry up.

A few tense moments later Dune was safely on the other side of the fan and the moogle already working its way down the new passage. How it knew this was the right passage was a mystery to Dune, but then again, nearly everything about this creature was a mystery, and he simply had to trust its infallible internal compass. They continued forward until they reached the end of the shaft. Kumiro stopped underneath the grate and quickly poked its pom-pom out through one of the slits. Dune guessed the little puff of fuzz sticking out of the creature's head was more than just decoration like he had first imagined. The moogle stayed still for a moment, then ducked back down and lept up, lifting the grate as he rose.

They were once again just a few steps away from the entrance to a passageway, and there was no one close enough to see them. Dune wondered how long their luck would last as he glanced up at the sign above the entrance and silently read what it said. "Geothermal Generators 120-360: Central Section" was brightly glowing in large block letters. This did not seem like the way to a religious meeting place, but did he really think they were just going to walk into the front door?

Kumiro led the way through the new series of passages with his usual efficacy and soon they were safely and suddenly in front of a series of gigantic pumps and generators that stretched off into the distance of a cavernous room of equally gigantic proportions. The sound of rushing water and hissing steam filled the room with a deafening roar, and Dune instinctively clapped his hands to his ears the instant they hit the open space of the room. The room did not seem as artificial as the rest of the areas he had seen so far underneath the city. It looked like it was a natural underground cavern, complete with a large underwater river running down the middle of it. The river led away from the right of where Dune and Kumiro stood, and kept going until it fell off into a steep precipice about a thousand feet away. On either side of the river, stacked row after row almost straight to the ceiling of the room, were hundreds of massive generators busily working. Each one was humming loudly and vibrating so fiercely that Dune thought they looked read to fly apart at any second. Large cumbersome pipelines were rising out from the precipice alongside the river and then splitting off and running into the many blocky generators. Another complex series of pipes jutted out from the machines and crept up the walls like spidery ribs towards the ceiling where they all met in one gigantic bundle of pipes running along parallel to the river below. Every once and a while a hot gust of steam would burst from a loose coupling in the pipes. What impressed Dune most was the sheer scale of the production before him. Geothermal plants were not unknown to Dune, but he had never anticipated the epic size of this one. And if he was right about the sign above the passage, these grand machines were only a single section of the entire system. This must be the phenomenal power source that drives the entire city of Narsille above.

A swift tug at his pant leg again brought Dune partially back to his senses. For that brief moment as he gazed at the wondrous technology in front of him, Dune had completely forgotten about what he was doing here. Technology usually didn't have such an effect on Dune, but this sight was such a marvel of technological wizardry that Dune couldn't help but stupidly stare in stunned awe. It was almost...magical. When Kumiro tugged again, this time with more force, Dune gave him a slightly dazed look that asked where to go next. The moogle looked around the vast room for a moment, then jabbed its finger at the edge of the abyss where the water was steadily falling into nothingness. Down there? Admittedly, Dune was curious where the river went and where the pipes were coming from, but this new obstacle made the fan look tame by comparison.

Tiny workers could be seen wandering between the megalithic generators occasionally, but there was so much going on in this room that it was not hard to move about without being noticed. These workers had too much on their hands to worry about a couple of lost tourists. Dune and Kumiro walked over to the edge of the waterfall with a mock casualness and peered over the edge to see what was waiting for them below. As far as Dune could see, there was nothing but darkness beneath them. An endless series of lights blinked a dim path alongside the rising pipes, and Dune could just make out a rickety mesh of scaffolding leaning against the entire cliff face in the lighting. The waterfall, pipes, lights and scaffolding all trailed off into the distant depths until all were lost in the darkness. Kumiro cautiously fluttered down to the scaffolding and urged Dune to follow. It was times like this Dune envied the moogles ability to fly, as limited as it was. Once more Dune took in a deep breath and climbed down over the edge of cliff and edged his way along the narrow path towards the scaffold. The steel bars and girders that made up the scaffolding looked sturdy enough, but the structure still looked small and frail alongside the giant hissing pipes and roaring waterfall.

Before Dune had even made it to where Kumiro was waiting, the moogle was already off and climbing with monkey-like agility down the rungs and platforms. Dune could only lumber along slowly above him, hoping the bars that supported the moogle would support him as well. Soon the moogle was out of sight from Dune, but he could still hear it squeaking along as it hopped from one hold to another. Then Dune heard something that sent a shiver down his spine. Instead of the moogle's usual pleasant squeak, it let out a high-pitched squeal that sounded like a baby pig being gutted, and then it was silent. Instantly responding to his faithful companion's cry, Dune abandoned his former caution and lept from one hold to another with a reckless agility almost on par with the moogle's.

He had almost made it to where he had heard the moogle's scream when he slipped on a foothold that was drenched with spray from the waterfall and went tumbling backwards into the falls. He tried to let out a cry, only to have a pillar of water nearly drown him. The waterfall had him now, and it wasn't going to let go until it dragged him down into whatever hellish depths it emptied into. Floating in and out of consciousness, Dune tried desperately to latch his flailing arms and legs onto the girders that were rushing before his eyes. If he could just concentrate and get a clear view he might be able to grab hold of the scaffolding. But the relentless force of the falls was too great, and soon Dune stopped struggling and let his body be pushed down, down, down into the black oblivion before him. A few jumbled thoughts later his mind joined his body in darkness.


	28. Demons Within, 'Fire and Ice'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.6 - Fire and Ice**

"_Duuuune..."_

"_Waaaake uuuup Duuuune..."_

A sweet melodious voice greeted Dune's battered senses, and brought him back into the world of light. The voice was garbled, like hearing someone speaking underwater, but still more beautiful and serene than any voice Dune had ever heard. Who could such a heavenly voice belong to?

Dune shot up from where he had regained consciousness and looked around. It seemed he was still alive, and miraculously unharmed, save a few bumps and bruises. The falls could still be heard thrashing against hard rocks in the distsance behind Dune, but all that could be seen was darkness in that direction. The river had carried Dune a good distance from the falls while he was out, and now he was lying comfortably on a mossy patch of shore next to the river. Even his hat and glasses were still intact and on his head, a feat that seemed almost as ridiculous as his bodily condition. Had someone saved him? Or was he just unbelievably lucky?

The river itself was still deep and flowing, but it was doing so lazily and without much ferocity. All the malevolence of the water had been taken out of it by the falls and now the river happily sloshed around in small whirlpools. Further down, the river continued to lose power and Dune could just make out a rock wall where the river slipped under a wide chasm and out of sight. The pipes that had followed the river were still lining its sides, and Dune could finally see their source sitting only a few yards away from him.

The structure that was the source for the multitude of steam-filled pipes looked like a larger version of the generators above the falls. It was about the size of a small house and was working hard at pulling the vital hot gases that powered Narsille from the unknown depths. There were cracks and fissures strewn all about the area and quick bursts of unrefined steam would shoot out of them like geysers at regular intervals. If Dune had to guess, it looked as if the river continued to descend into the earth until it hit a pocket of magma and turned to steam. The steam would then push through the many cracks in the earth until it bled out here. Could one single river really supply enough steam to power an entire city, though?

For now, Dune had more pressing concerns that the mysterious power source of this system. Where had Kumiro gone? And what was that voice he heard? Dune struggled to look for a furry white body lying near him in the pale glow of the sparse lighting around him, but could see nothing. Had the poor creature fallen and drowned like Dune should have? This thought was extremely unsettling to Dune, not just for the moogle's sake, but for Indie's. How would he tell the old man that he had failed to protect his trusted partner in crime and lost him to the merciless waters that flowed beneath Narsille? The heart-rending scream the moogle had made before it was lost still echoed in Dune's mind, and he shuddered. There was little time for grief, and Dune did not believe Kumiro lost just yet. He was still alive and well, and the moogle had shown itself to be more of a survivor than he. It must have made it down here in one piece as well. Dune was sure Kumiro would come bouncing along happily waving its paws soon enough.

For now Dune had a job to do. According to Kumiro, the entrance to the hall of the Order was down here somewhere, and he might as well start looking for it. Separated from his infallible moogle guide as he may be, now was not the time to just give up and sit on his haunches until he was captured. Dune got up and brushed himself off, then walked over to the massive machine that was sucking the steam from the surrounding earth like some greedy giant. The machine seemed to work without any kind of human assistance at all, at least from what Dune could tell. It mindlessly went about its unrelenting task and with perfect precision. This was fine by Dune, who cautiously walked around the machine's perimeter, looking for some sort of sign as to where to go next, as well as any unwanted company lying in wait.

After a small trek to the other side of the machine, Dune found what he was looking for. It seemed this machine had another area it was feeding power into. A complex network of large pipes and wires protruded from the back of the mechanical beast, and Dune followed them to the rock face that hid the rest of the river. Here the pipes plunged into the rock face, with a small area of space around them for the wires. Even without Kumiro's assistance, Dune could feel that this was where he needed to go. The fit would be tight, but it looked like the wires could be pushed aside and Dune could climb the pipes to...wherever it was his path was taking him.

Once again Dune found himself struggling to fit into a small passageway, and this time he was greeted by a blast of blistering heat, not a cool breeze. The hot gases flowing through the pipes made it almost impossible to crawl along them, but Dune had to manage or he would be stuck down here forever. The pipes' surface felt like crawling on a hot plate and Dune would never have made it through if he hadn't remembered the crystal still tucked in his pocket. He took hold of the crystal every once and a while and its icy touch soothed him tremendously as he made his way along the pipeline. Using the crystal in such a way made Dune feel guilty somehow, like it was a drug he needed, but it was either use the properties of the crystal to his advantage or suffer painful burns from the super-heated surface of the pipes. Dune feared the heat from the pipes was so great that his clothes might even catch fire as he pushed forward, but it seemed the crystal's influence extended itself around him like a force field and protected his entire person from the heat. Dune quickly realized that Kumiro, or anyone else for that matter, would never have been able to use this path to breach the Order's meeting place, and this made him more confident than ever that he was on the right track. It may not have been the path Alex or Kumiro had in mind when they led him down here, but Dune knew it was still the right path nonetheless. This was _his_ path.

After a long trek through the total darkness of the pipeline, Dune could faintly make out a pulsing light ahead of him. Finally! Dune eagerly pushed forward until he had reached the end of the pipeline. He cautiously peered out of the opening where the pipes exited the wall. He was about ten feet above the ground, but he thoughtlessly jumped down anyways. He hit the ground on his feet hard, and staggered a bit before regaining his balance. It was still relatively dark, and ominously silent compared to the noisy generators he had left behind. Dune found himself in a small room that looked like a control room. There were many screens, panels and buttons flicking on and off along the walls, but nothing alive. Dune ignored all the displays and left the room as silently as he could. He was very close now, his gut instinct told him. He couldn't afford to be sloppy now that he had made it so far.

Outside the room Dune found himself in a small hallway once more, but this one had a different look to it. This one was clean and brightly lit with torches, not electric lights. The hallway was carved directly from the rock, but it looked like it was carved meticulously, not just hacked out of the earth like the mine shafts before. Strange symbols and patterns were painted onto the smoothly cut surface of the walls and floors, none of which Dune had seen before. This was disconcerting to Dune, since he was an archeologist after all, and ancient civilizations and their languages were his specialty. Yes, this new area was definitely more like a secret religious meeting ground. Dune continued to follow the path in the direction he felt he was supposed to be going, and eventually made it to a wide open space that was undoubtedly his final destination.

Dune's first thought when he entered the cathedral-sized meeting place was that the room itself was the proof Alex had promised he would find. The room was beyond any form of architecture he had seen before, and "magical" was the only word he could think of to describe it. The room itself was enormous, with a high sloping ceiling and smooth walls, all completely covered with more of the strange symbols and figures. Dune still couldn't make heads or tails of the symbols, but they all seemed to spiral out along the walls and up the ceiling, away from a central point further within the room. Great stone pillars lined the walls, with gruesome depictions of demons and angels locked in an epic struggle jutting out from them in relief form. The pillars ended in grand arches that criss-crossed the ceiling. Hanging from the middle of each of the arches was a luxuriously adorned chandelier alight with hundreds of small candles. The chandeliers flickered and swayed, casting long quivering shadows across the room in all directions. The room's floor was one vast sheet of marble, completely seamless except for a vibrant red carpet that led from where Dune stood to the center of the room.

Where the carpet stopped was a mythril statue of some titanic being that seemed to fill the entire room with its bluish glow. The statue was beyond any level of masonry Dune had seen above ground, and it looked as if the being it portrayed was ready to come alive and flay whoever entered this room without its express permission. Dune could not make out exactly what kind of entity the statue was, although it had a distinctly human shape. If one looked at it from a distance it might look like some great warrior angel, but up close it was hard to tell exactly what it was. The facial features were oddly blurred, yet clear at the same time. When looked at out of the corner of one's eye, the features seemed clear enough, but as soon as they tried to focus on any part directly, any distinguishing features vanished. It wore a flowing robe around its massive body, but wore nothing on its feet. It had two pairs of great eagle-like wings spread out to their full length, one set flowing upward, and the other downward. The statue also had two pairs of arms. In the upper two hands it wielded deadly looking scimitars, but only a book against its chest in the third, and some strange object Dune could not make out was held out in the palm of the fourth. It looked like a large sphere, and had more of the strange symbols carved into it. The being stood in a pose of thoughtful vigilance, and the more Dune looked at it the more it gave off a distinct impression of peace and nobility, not the fiery hostility Dune had first saw in it. There was no doubt in Dune's mind that this was a god of peace, not war. The central deity of the Order of the Pearl, perhaps?

The part of the room that impressed Dune the most was the central mantle at the far end of the room. It seemed every single piece of architecture bent towards this edifice, as if the room itself was praying to the structure that stood there. Dune sensed that this was what he had come here to see, and moved towards it without seeming to even realize he was in motion. The structure was pulling him towards it, filling him with an unspeakable sense of awe and dread at the same time. Whatever it was, it had as powerful a pull on Dune as the crystal did, maybe even moreso.

A small flight of wide stairs led up to a dais that would have been right where the pulpit would be if this were a traditional church. There was no pulpit here; instead there was a large raised platform with numerous red drapings covering it in complicated, but obviously purposeful, patterns and knots. The drapings seemed to act as a sort of soft resting place for the object that was emanating the strong force that was pulling the very room towards it. Nestled in the drapes like an egg was what Dune realized was the very object the god-statue had been depicted holding in its lower right hand - a large milky white pearl of unparalleled perfection and luster. The pearl's beauty hypnotized Dune into a dazed stupor, and there was no telling how long he sat there and gazed at it stupidly before pulling himself out of its grasp and studying it and its surroundings more carefully.

The pearl itself was much too large to be natural, and yet that was exactly what Dune knew it was - natural. Perhaps not borne from any living creature, but borne from nature regardless. It gave off a slow pulse that soothed Dune's nerves and lulled him into a false sense of security. The only thing that Dune sensed from this sacred jewel was a feeling of absolute peace and tranquillity. Even the continued pull of the crystal in Dune's hand was no match for the pull of this object. For the first time since Dune had held the crystal in his hands, its cold touch vanished, and Dune felt nothing at all from it. Whatever it was, not even Doom's threatening presence could stand up to it. For the time being, the whispering voice of death that haunted Dune wherever he went was silenced.

Now Dune looked past the pearl and saw something else. Coming out from the wall a few feet behind the pearl's resting place was a large jewel-encrusted pedestal with an ancient tattered scroll laid out on it. Dune once again knew this was what he was meant to find here, and with a growing sense of awe he stepped forward and examined the decaying scroll. Written on the paper were more of the unreadable symbols that Dune had seen covering the room. Unlike before, Dune suddenly found he could read these symbols, but not because he knew the language. The symbols themselves seemed to speak into his mind and tell him their secrets. What he heard in his mind's eye would echo across his thoughts for countless years to come...

_"When the Balance of Eight meets its end beyond Time_

_The Three will be taken and paid in full for their Crime._

_The Sands of Time shall never be stilled,_

_The Force that was drained must be refilled._

_In the Mouth of Fire a fated Pact will be made,_

_The Vengeful Master will come to the one called Sade._

_In the Desert of Death where life dares not bloom,_

_The Child of the Sands will meet his Doom._

_Before the Eye of the storm that does not sleep,_

_The Elder of the Seas will sink into the Deep._

_The Path of the Three will converge at the Source,_

_Where the Vessels of Fate will open the Door._

_A Great Power will be bestowed to the chosen few,_

_And Chaos shall reign until the Balance is renewed._

_Time will pass and the Great War for Power will rage,_

_Only the Splitting of Power will save the world for an age._

_But The River of Time has one final Bend, _

_Upon the backs of the Three the world will End._

_Hope cannot die and Promises may keep,_

_The Dreaming Awake shall return to their Sleep."_

So this must be the mythic "Prophecy" he had heard about. Much of the cryptic verse that was winding its way through Dune's mind made little sense to him at first, but two lines stuck out and sent sharp pangs of realization deep into his spirit.

"_The Vengeful Master will come to the one called Sade."_

"_The Child of the Sands will meet his Doom."_

Dune could barely keep the hot soup his thoughts were becoming from driving him mad. Sade. _Sade. _It always seems to come back to either that dark man or Dune himself. Yes, this was the truth Dune had wanted so desperately to uncover. Right here within the words written on this scroll was Truth. _More of it than you had ever wished to know_, his unraveling mind screamed at him. He struggled to keep a logical stance while he contemplated the fateful words, but found it impossible. A steady stream of horrific images of death, despair and destruction beyond anything he ever thought possible bled into his mind and infected it like a disease. He let out a loud sharp laugh to vent the madness growing within him, but it did no good. As long as he stood here trapped by the Prophecy's voice he could not sense anything but the overwhelming pain that filled his mind, body, and soul. All the anguish of the planet seemed to be channeling itself from the scroll into him. If he did not get away soon, his mind would be destroyed and his spirit lost to the crushing waves of hopelessness washing over him.

Just as his mind was about to snap, a new sound reached his ears, one that was both sinister and brutally sane. Clapping. A slow, sharp clapping was coming from directly behind Dune, causing him to whirl around in a furious spin of half-crazed surprise. His wide bulging eyes stared disbelievingly at a sneering face full of sickeningly sweet calmness and false sympathy. Sade stood before him, casually applauding his struggle to keep his mind intact. His slow, patient voice echoed through the room like the soothing tones of a serpent who knows his prey has been defeated, and only wants to toy with it before striking.

"Well done, Mr. Karn! You truly have the luck of the gods to have made it here. Without your little pet, even!"

Sade reached behind his back and pulled out a white furry bundle. It was Kumiro, except he was tied and gagged, and didn't seem to be conscious. Dune just stood staring at Sade with his bulging crazed eyes, the madness within him pushing all rational thought from his reach.

"...Sade...I...you...agh!"

Sade only laughed his low, sinister laugh and continued taunting Dune, knowing he had won.

"Yes, the Voice of God is not meant for ears such as yours, infidel. Still, I must welcome you to the inner sanctum of the Holy Order of the Pearl. It is not often we have guests here. It is a forbidden place to all but the highest of our order, after all. And I'm afraid...the penalty for trespassing on such holy ground is death. The problem here is that you are already dead, Mr. Karn."

Dune heard the words Sade spoke, but could only answer in broken half-babbling phrases. The Voice was steadily tearing down wall after wall inside his mind, and soon he would not even know who he was. For now, he still clung desperately to Sade's calm voice, as mercilessly sane as it was.

"Dead? No...I...pain...too much!"

"Yes dead. Or didn't you understand the Prophecy? You are a walking dead man, and have been ever since you took that crystal into your hands. The price a mortal must pay for coming into contact with the gravity crystal is death and nothing less. You were struck dead in the Thanas Desert, Mr. Karn. I have no doubt of that. Why you are still standing before me when so many others like you have been destroyed by the crystal's poison touch is unknown, but I have an idea."

Now Sade was practically giving a speech to Dune, one he had thought a great deal about. He paced back and forth with his gloved hand thoughtfully stroking his chin every few moments. His flaming red hair followed like an aura of fire. Dune could sense the growing heat from him, but could do nothing but gawk as he struggled with his own demons. He knew what was coming, and fought hard to break free, but the Voice was too much.

"You see, I believe you are in fact still dead, technically speaking. For some reason that I cannot yet see, the crystal has chosen you as its Vessel, and your spirit is bound to it, and cannot fade until its will is carried out in full. Why someone like you should be the one to inherit such a great responsibility is equally unfathomable to me. But I care not for the whims of the Gods above, only for the one I have sworn to follow. And I believe that crystal is your lifeline, and if I were to...take it...the half life you lead now would come to an abrupt and unceremonious end. Will you try to stop me, Mr. Karn? Even now, in the state you are in? Is the crystal's pull that strong? We shall see who is the rightful Master of the crystals. Show me your power...Doom!"

As Sade spoke, he threw Kumiro aside and then tossed back his black coat to reveal a sight that would have defeated lesser men. His entire body was swathed in a gruesome suit of sharply spiked blood-red armor from neck to toe. More than that, the armor seemed alive, with the gaping maw of a blood-drenched demon across his abdomen. The demonic visage sneered cruelly at Dune, its mass of hellishly mutated fangs forcing their way up and through the demon's very face as they grew. A set of gnarled golden horns completed the picture of evil that rested on Sade's chest. This was the mouth that finished Sade's speech and now grinned at Dune with nothing but carnage on its mind. As the voice spoke, the heat that surrounded Sade turned into a visible warble in the surrounding air, and then in a blinding flash ignited and engulfed Sade in an aura of very real fire.

Now another force was pushing itself through the waves of madness engulfing Dune, one that was coldly familiar. As soon as Sade had threatened to take the crystal, the voice of Doom split through the waves of madness and spoke to Dune not in a whisper, but a manic, shrieking fury.

"_He is going to take it! Do something you fool before all is lost! I am your Master and you-will-obey-ME! Now let loose my fury! Let my brethren see the face of Doom, and let it chill his fiery heart to its core! Alight on the icy winds of Cocytus NOW, my Emissary!"_

The effect of this chilling outburst was like ice-cold water being dumped on Dune, and for one moment his mind was clear of the Voice, and only Doom's presence remained. Dune's vision clouded and his senses numbed once more. A terrific blast of pure ice-cold death shot out from Dune's body, engulfing him in a blue aura as magnificent as Sade's fiery red one. Dune's aura expanded rapidly and collided with Sade's, sending a shockwave throughout the hall that shook the room from the marble floor to the wildly swinging chandeliers. Both men staggered back from the blast, but Sade was the first to recover. The demon on Sade's chest spoke up once more as it regained its strength.

"_So this is the power of the Emissary of Doom? Hah! You will not win me over so easily, brother! The world shall end in fire, not ice!"_

Sade sprang back up as quickly as a snake making its deathblow, and rushed at Dune as he staggered back from the collision. The aura of flames increased in fury, and scorch marks could be seen forming where Sade rapidly glided across the room towards his target. Dune was no longer in control of his actions now, though, and the untold powers of Doom were now mustering their forces in his body like a frozen cannon ready to fire. With chilling grace, Dune rose up from the ground and convulsed in one violent spasm, sending out a final frigid explosion of icy hell at Sade. The cold blast struck Sade directly in his gruesomely adorned chest and for a moment all movement stopped, then Sade went shotgunning backwards, flying directly towards the god-statue like a guided missile.

"_NOOOOOOO!"_

Sade slammed into the statue with enough force to shatter the impossibly sturdy mythril frame. Pieces of the holy object flew across the room, and a large cloud of glittering blue-white dust billowed out from where the statue had once stood. When the dust cleared, Sade was gone. The power of Doom had been more than he expected, and for now, Dune must live. For now. The Vengeful Master was always true to his name, and would not suffer defeat at the hands of anyone as long as he could still force his Vessel to fight.

With all the fury of his dark god spent, Dune slumped down onto the ground, oblivious to the voice of his Master, and the Voice of God that had nearly driven him insane.


	29. Demons Within, 'World of Pain'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.7 - World of Pain**

A flicker of flame in an infinite darkness of ash.

"So, you've failed me for a second time, Sade."

"Yes, Master. Doom's hold over him has grown much faster than I anticipated. He has proven himself a most malleable Vessel."

The flicker grew to a thin circle of flame surrounding Sade's prostrate form, bowed low in reverence to his new Master. The harsh feral voice rose up once more in a cruel growl. It was unlike the growl of any beast, but more like the sound of a monstrous bird whose cry has been amplified and distorted by its size. The empty voice resonated with itself, as if it were actually two voices speaking in unison, one a slightly higher pitch than the other.

"Indeed! He has proven himself a worthier Vessel than even you! To think the Flames of Dis could be so easily quenched...such weakness is inexcusable!"

Now the circle of fire rose up to a wall of flame surrounding Sade. Five long tendrils of fire shot out from the circle and wrapped themselves around Sade, like the spokes of wheel, with Sade its unfortunate hub. Sade was not a weak man, however, and he held his tongue as the flames licked against his now armorless body. His flesh burned and blackened with every curl of fire, but he remained stolid. This pain must be endured as penance for his failure. He shut his eyes tight and did his best to ignore a pain that would break a normal man in seconds.

"_This is not real...this is not real...this is not real...," _Sade silently repeated over and over in his head, fighting the urge to open his eyes and see the very real effects the flames were having on his body. Many more deep, charred remnants of scar tissue covered his body, testaments to previous trials by fire from his Master. He would survive this, as he had before, and as he would for however many more times his Master chose to enforce his will over his servant.

Gradually, the hold of the flames weakened and the wall of fire grew dimmer until Sade was once again alone in a ruinous world of blackness and death. Sade would not dare look up from his position, for he knew what he would see around him and wished never to see it again. Once was enough to make a lasting impression, even on a man such as Sade.

The world that surrounded Sade was one of pure destruction. Mountains of ash rose up all around him, some many miles high. The surface was also nothing but ashes and charred remains of various monstrous forms that might once have been alive, many eons ago. Nothing was alive here now though. The limitless surface of ash and dust stretched out in sharp jagged dunes in every direction, only broken by the mountains that twisted and cut their way up from the ground in gruesome spires. The landscape was one of a world that had seen its end in a fiery cataclysm many ages past, and now was nothing but a smoldering corpse.

There was no light in this place, only a dim gray haze that made Sade's eyes water and his throat burn. This dull, smoky haze made everything in this world seem even more lifeless and pale that it already was. No colors could survive here except graytones and pure blackness. Anything beautiful and vibrant was quickly drained of its life and turned to ash under the sapping powers of the lazily flowing smog that filled the darkness.

A sharp wind blew from a distant point in front of where Sade bowed. This wind was painfully hot, like steam escaping from a loose vent, only it was dry as well. As it blew it kicked up small particles of ash and threw them into Sade's face where they stung like thousands of tiny glass shards. Sade could feel the dry air burning against his face and forcing every drop of sweat from his exhausted pores.

This was no place for the living. Lucky for Sade he had already sold his soul to his Master, and was no more alive than Dune now. He knew this, but it did not bother him much. If the promises of his Master proved true, his eternal soul was a small price to pay for the power that would be his in time. He would be his own Master, doling out his own fiery brand of righteous justice to those who had scorned him and left him to die. He would have his revenge. In this, Sade and the Vengeful Master agreed. Vengeance was a dish best served _hot._

Another flicker of light deep in the bowels of this hell and the strange dual voice resumed speaking to its lowly servant.

"We will continue the plan as before. Nothing has changed. The Vessel of Doom shall seek out the final gravity crystal and our triad will be fully realized, as the Prophecy has decreed. I believe I may have grown restless in my long wait for vengeance, and struck before the time was ripe. Only when all three crystals are gathered and the Pearl of Order has turned can we be freed. Until then, any attempt at regaining control is futile."

"But what of our efforts to retrieve the crystals for ourselves? Are we to let Fate dictate the coming course of events and let the third crystal fall into the hands of Dune willingly? Or are we still to attempt to find and take the crystal ourselves?"

Sade spoke to his Master in subdued tones, his eyes never leaving the harsh ground below him. Even asking questions of this infernal God was a task often rewarded with painful burns. Sometimes even Sade was humbled by the level of inhumanity his Master was capable of, and the fact that he seemed to enjoy it so. Sade had no love of humanity, but the fragments of conscience that still lingered from his earlier days as a devout follower of the Order kept him from stooping to the levels of cruelty that his Master routinely showed, not only against him, but against others through him. At the times when his Master's power flowed through his body, he could even sense the powerful negative emotions behind the incredible force. These glimpses into the mind of his hate-filled Master were the final proof for Sade that he was truly dealing with the devil himself. So much negative energy couldn't possibly come from anything else Sade dared think about. None of this mattered to Sade anymore. Even if he had sold his soul to the devil, in Sade's mind the reward justified the impossibly high price. He would have his revenge. Nothing else mattered.

"Of course we will still attempt to gain the third crystal for ourselves. The one who makes contact with the crystal must be worthy of its powers and compatible with our essence. You know who must seek out the crystal and find it. We must let them carry out the will of the Prophecy until then. Your spy must not fail to steal the crystal this time. The link must be broken soon after it is forged, or the power between the Vessel and the crystal will be too great to be undone by force alone. Such was my folly this time. I will not fail next time. _You _will not fail next time. Do you understand?"

Sade understood.

"Yes, Master. Thy will be done."

Sade stood up, his eyes still lowered, and bowed once more before the invisible force before him. He knew what was out there, that image had been burned into his mind as clearly as the scars on his body, and he wished not to see it again. He stood motionless and waited to be cast away from his Master's presence.

"The Voice of Dis has spoken. Remember my words, Sade, or you will experience pain like nothing I have shown you yet. You shall burn for all eternity, here with me, if you fail this time. Now begone!"

A great gust of volcanic fury blew Sade backwards and sent him flying away from the flickering presence and up into the space of the surrounding void. For a brief moment Sade glimpsed a great winged demon ushering a growing wall of flames towards him. The flames were soon far too bright and forced Sade to close his eyes before he saw the true form of his Master once more. The flames blotted out the landscape and soon engulfed Sade completely. He felt horrible searing pain rip through his body as he was torn between the dimensions of this illusory world and reality. A brief flaring peak and the pain dropped off, then vanished.

Sade opened his eyes and found himself sitting in his room, just as he had been before he left for the hellish prison-world known as Dis, the home of his Master. He was sitting cross-legged in a meditative stance, meant to force himself into the dream-like state required to commune with his Master. Sweat stood out on his face and body, and fresh glowing wounds tattooed his body where the flames had touched him. Beneath these fresh wounds many older scars covered his body. The world of his Master may only be an illusion, but his Master's powers were very real, and could influence Sade and the people around him even in the real world. There was no pain from the wounds, but they burned brightly, as if there were still the smoldering embers of Dis deep inside them.

Sade slowly got up and reached for a glass of water on a nearby desk. He was worn out from his meeting with his Master, as was always the case, and the battle with Dune added to his exhaustion. He was still so weak! If only he had the power he so desired, such weaknesses would be nothing more than painful memories; fuel for the fires he would unleash on his enemies. And Sade had many enemies, although most of them were only enemies in his mind, and had no idea of the hatred he bore them. Dune was a very real enemy, and one who had hurt him in a very real way. He would be the first to feel the purifying wrath of his judgement. And then, the others...so many others, so much vengeance to unleash upon the world, so many wrongs that needed to be righted. They will all pay for what they did to him. His pain will become their pain, in time. He shivered with giddy anticipation, smashing the glass in his bare hands, drawing blood. He welcomed the fresh flow of warmth trickling down his arm. They will feel his pain, oh yes. Every last drop.


	30. Demons Within, 'Comings and Goings'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Demons Within**

* * *

**Part 4.8 - Comings and Goings**

Dune meanwhile was just coming out of his own dream-like state. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around at the wreckage of the meeting hall of the Order. The wreckage he himself had caused. His head throbbed, but otherwise he seemed unhurt. He supposed his encounter with Sade could have ended much worse, but this was small consolation to being brought the news that you were dead. Every time he tried to remember the exact events that had just played out, his headache increased in pain until he was forced to turn to other thoughts. The events after Sade's speech were all a blur, just like before. Those events could not be reconciled with Dune's logical mind, and memories of them would only drive him insane.

He knew what he had heard and seen, but refused to believe any of it. His mind simply wouldn't allow him to believe it. He wasn't dead, and that voice was certainly not the "Voice of God" as Sade had put it. How could he be dead if he was sitting right here, feeling very much alive? Obviously this and that ominous voice were more tricks of Sade's to keep him in the dark. What was Sade planning on doing? Why was Dune so important, and what was the purpose of the crystal? The same old questions, and yet still no answers in sight. He grew weary of being pulled from one event to the next like a puppet, and wondered at what point he'd finally be able to stand up for himself and take control of his life once more.

For now, Dune needed to find his way back to his room without being detected. Sade may be gone, but there were undoubtedly many others who were looking for him now. How would he make it all the way back to his room? He glanced over and saw a small pile of white fur wrapped in ropes. It wriggled back and forth, struggling against the knots, then flopped over and the perpetually happy face of Kumiro was gazing at Dune once again. He let out a weak cry, and then continued to struggle. The face still had the same grin and happily shut eyes, but there was now a distinct look of pain and sadness in its features that strained the otherwise happy countenance.

"...Kupo."

Kumiro lay nearby, still tied up and unable to move. He also seemed unhurt, although he looked as exhausted as Dune felt. What sort of torture had Sade inflicted on the poor moogle? Dune staggered to his feet and crawled over to where Kumiro lay. The knots were easy enough for a human to untie, although for the clawed hands of a moogle they were probably impossible to manage. Dune gently tugged at the ropes and freed his faithful little friend from his bonds. The creature bounced up instantly and fluttered its wings. Dune smiled. It looked like they were both none the worse for their experience down in the depths of this underground dungeon. They still needed to escape, and that would not be easy. Dune could not leave the same way he had come in, and he had no idea of any other way back to where he was supposed to be. He looked at Kumiro for guidance once more.

"Well, I think I've seen what I was supposed to see, and would much like to leave now. You know how to get us out of here, I hope?"

"Kupo! Po!"

The moogle nodded its head vigorously and on "Po!" pointed at the back of the meeting hall, past the glowing rubble of the statue. There was the passage Dune had come in by, and beyond that the long hallway that lead into the rest of the Order's underground stronghold. With Kumiro's stealth, he was sure they could make it through unseen and unheard. Any reservations he held when first meeting the moogle had long since vanished.

The moogle chirped again and then quickly started towards the exit. Dune was not quite as recovered as Kumiro, and slowly stumbled after him, his aching joints keeping him at a walking pace. No amount of flailing on the moogle's part could make him move any faster yet.

"Just give me a minute to heal up, would you? I'm not as quick on my feet as you are, you know!"

"Kupopopo!"

The moogle seemed to be laughing at Dune, although not unkindly. Still they both knew if they didn't hurry, they would be caught. The moogle kept pushing Dune to move as fast as he could, despite his complaining. Surely the rest of the Order would be behind Sade.

Dune kept moving forward, strength coming back into his arms and legs. He could now keep up with the moogle, although he made no attempt to soften his footsteps. The moogle didn't seem to care about the noise Dune made anymore. It was too late to worry about such things. Speed was all that mattered now. If they were caught, they would fight. Dune didn't know if he could really defend himself against anyone in combat, but he had somehow gotten past Sade, and that was more than he could possibly have expected from himself.

Kumiro kept leading Dune through the various corridors that made up the area, once again seeming to have a built-in compass that told him which paths to take. Dune glanced every once and a while at the strange writings on the wall, hoping to catch a piece he could make out. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar to him, and he had always taken pride in his ability to decipher ancient languages. From what he could tell, the symbols made up a very primitive language that pre-dated all languages he had studied. His trained eye could make out various configurations that hinted at the underlying structure of the language and its developmental age compared to modern languages, but in his current plight he couldn't hope to translate anything now. He strongly regretted being forced to pass up such an archeological gold mine. An entire language he had known nothing about, and surely enough of it on these walls to translate, given time and a little luck. More than once he wondered if he would be able to return here under safer circumstances when all of this was over. Somehow, something deep inside him told him this secret language was something he would never get the chance to study at leisure. Events were coming together now, and he felt a strong rush of dread as he thought about the uncertain future ahead of him.

As Dune was lost in his thoughts, Kumiro suddenly stopped, causing him to run right into the moogle and knock it over. It gave a grunt of displeasure as it rolled head over heels forward, but quickly steadied and flew up into Dunes face with a worried look on its face.

"Kuuuu..!"

Dune knew this meant to be quiet and stay still. They both held their breath and listened for any sign of someone approaching. Dune heard nothing, but he was willing to bet Kumiro's sharp moogle ears did. Nothing so far. Dune strained his senses as far as he could to try and make out what Kumiro had felt, but it was hopeless. He just had to trust his guide and wait.

After several tense minutes, Kumiro slowly moved forward and looked around the nearest corner. He chirped at Dune once then disappeared around the corner. Dune followed him, and soon they were back into the same routine of fleeing down one passage after another. Dune had no idea what Kumiro had sensed, but it had been enough to stall him for a considerable amount of time, and so must have been a very real danger. He wondered just how safe they could hope to be down in this place.

Finally the passages became less straight and polished, and the symbols on the walls gradually lessened until they were just one or two enigmatic scribbles here and there. A few more turns and they were once again in a large cavernous hallway that looked like it was carved right out of the earth. Dune could hear a familiar sound that filled him with both relief and fear. Falling water. They must be coming back to the foot of the falls now, which put them outside the Order's domain and back within the world of underground Narsille proper. Dune knew he wasn't any safer out here than he was within the walls of the Order, but he felt a strong relief at being away from reminders of the sacred meeting place anyways.

Soon Dune could see the falls ahead of him, still gushing and roaring, heedless of his return. He had returned to challenge this towering foe, and this time he wouldn't fall. He had gotten lucky once and survived, but he doubted he could ever be so lucky again. The moogle also seemed to recognize the power of the force in front of them, and slowed down slightly as it looked up into the dimly lit blackness above the falls. That was where they needed to go, but neither of them seemed eager to start their treacherous ascent.

Dune looked around for some sign of a foot hold to start climbing. He followed the patchwork system of girders, ladders, and railings that crossed the falls down to the base, but could find nothing below a certain height. It seemed the walkways just vanished into the falls as they neared the bottom. Would they have to actually enter the falls to climb back up?

Kumiro also looked up at the falls, but his eyesight and familiarity with the surroundings allowed him to see what Dune had not. The walkways did indeed disappear behind the falls at a certain point not too far above where they stood, but down further there was a dim light shining from just outside the fall's range. It was a hole in the cliff wall that almost certainly followed a path down to the base. Kumiro hopped into the air and fluttered up to the hole, then vanished behind the falls. Dune looked on incredulously.

"Hey! I can't fly, you know!"

After a few moments of wondering whether he had been abandoned, Dune heard Kumiro's call and the moogle suddenly popped out from the base of the falls, seemingly from the raging water itself. Kumiro had followed the path he'd seen down to where it came out just hidden by the fall's mist, and now waited happily for Dune to follow him back up. This creature really was much smarter than it looked. Dune doubted he would have thought to do what it did, even if he could fly. Dune simply rubbed his forehead and followed the moogle once more.

The climb back up to the top was difficult, but there were no more surprises waiting for them on the path this time around, and they safely made it back up to where the geothermal generators still hummed their sleepy song. They quietly made their way back to the opening, hoping the workers were still as preoccupied as they were before. Once again no one paid them any heed, all eyes busy monitoring the machines they were assigned to.

Dune and Kumiro were now breathing a little easier. They had made it past the most dangerous parts of the return trek, and even if a worker spotted them now, they could simply tell the truth and say they were going back to his room. Dune did not sense that these workers were his enemies, and was sure they would not cause him or Kumiro any problems, even if they saw him. The friendly waves from the workers as Alex led Dune to his room before led Dune to believe he had nothing to fear from them.

Once back in the central hub, Kumiro simply half-trotted, half-skipped his way right over to the passage that led back to the section Dune's room was located in. There was no need to hide anymore, and some of the workers even waved at the funny little creature they had seen roaming these halls with Alex and Indie many times. Just showing their new guest around, probably. Nothing to worry about from those two.

Once Dune was back in his room, Kumiro said something in his strange language, then gave an awkward little bow, and was gone. Dune was alone and could finally gather his thoughts a bit. He tried to remember what had happened in the meeting hall, but everything after Sade's words was still blank. His mind would simply not let him relive those moments. He did remember the words of the Prophecy, and pondered over them while he lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He removed his hat and glasses and set them on a small desk next to the bed, then closed his eyes and tried to make sense of what he had seen and heard.

Many of the words meant little to him, just simple rhymes with no profound connection to the things he had experienced so far. He guessed the line about the child of the sands was meant to refer to him, and what Alex wanted him to be aware of. The next line about the "elder of the seas" worried Dune and he wondered if this had anything to do with his approaching mission into the Mordic Ocean, and just how much of this "prophecy" Alex was aware of. No, it was probably all just a coincidence. Dune knew the pitfalls of jumping to convenient conclusions, and would not allow himself to overanalyze the words of a simple poem as predictions of the future.

Alex and Indie may believe in such foolishness, but Dune had yet to be convinced. There was much he did not know about what was going on around him, and he would not play the "magic" card so easily. Magic was still the gray area people went to when they had no explanation for an experience. Dune felt he was of a higher caliber than such people, and even if two scientists he had such high respect for believed in it, he would not. Science would prevail in the end, and Dune would have a good laugh at how silly his fellow scientists had been when that time came.

The line with Sade obviously stuck in his mind, and he wondered who the "Vengeful Master" was, and if it had anything to do with Sade's strange behavior before Dune's memory loss. He was reminded of the dream he had on the Figaro in what seemed the distant past to him. In it he had exchanged heated words with the force that called itself the "Master of Earth." He was also reminded of his more recent dealings with his fearful and ever-present companion, Doom, or as he had referred to himself, the "Master of Ice". Who were these Masters? Friends or enemies? Or just figments of his imagination? There were many things surrounding each of his encounters with these forces that Dune did not understand, but he was too tired now to contemplate the idea of more magic. He was confident that all would be revealed eventually. He just had to be patient and wait for the answers to surface like some buried artifact out of the earth. If he kept digging, he would find all he needed to know. Of this he was completely confident, and this confidence eased his mind. Things will make sense in time, they always do. For now, he would sleep, and dream of when he would return to his wife, Mae. She will still be waiting for him when he returned, he was sure of it.

Elsewhere, a man in gold armor sat on a dragon-crested throne, and anxiously talked with the people around him. He was not in a good mood.

"What do you mean you've lost contact with Cassandra? She was supposed to have reported back to us hours ago. This technology...this "radio", it allows instantaneous communication, does it not?"

"Yes General Christophe, but we haven't received any word from her since she entered Narsille. She left for the city on her own almost two weeks ago by chocobo, and her last communication yesterday was from the gates of the city. I urged her not to go alone, but she wouldn't listen. You don't think she was captured, do you?

"I don't know. There's no way to know what happened to her unless we send more scouts. Dammit! Why did she have to go by herself? Foolish girl..."

"What should we do now? If Cassandra is to be trusted, we are running out of time before Narsille goes through with whatever it is they're planning. I for one would rather launch a full-scale attack than sit and wait for them to strike us as we are now."

"Don't you think I know what we are up against? Narsille is not like the East. They are a power far more advanced than either of our nations, and they _will _defeat us utterly if we attack them now. I would rather discover what their plans are and try to stop them covertly than risk all-out war with the most powerful nation in the world! Do _not_ follow in Cassandra's footsteps and make any brash moves. Do you understand?"

"Yes, General. I apologize for my impetuousness."

"If I may, Draco..."

A beautiful woman with blonde hair and a growing belly interrupted the two warriors, her voice as soothing as her beauty. Both men instantly stopped talking and looked at her respectfully.

"Yes, my love? What is it?"

"I realize we can't risk losing any more of our people, but time is short, and we must be willing to take chances before all is lost. What if you and I went ourselves, as ambassadors of the newly freed West Jidorik? Surely they would not harm us during peace talks?"

"Lady Maria, that is madness! You are with child, and as vital a symbol to our country as General Christophe. We can't risk sending you into the hands of the enemy!"

"I must agree, Maria. There is no way I'd allow you to leave the castle in your condition."

"But Narsille is not our enemy yet. We are still on the same terms that Ralse was with them. Tense, but not openly hostile. If we went to them on diplomatic terms, they would have to treat us as they would any royalty from any other nation. While there we could surely learn what we need to know. If they are preparing for war, there will be signs of it. As long as we are careful to not ruffle any feathers, I feel we can enter the city, learn what we need to know, and safely leave. Besides, I fear Cassandra may have stuck her nose where it didn't belong one too many times, and is now paying for it. We must at the very least attempt to rescue her, should we not?"

Draco remained silent for a few moments while he considered his wife's words. They were wise, as they always were, but still very dangerous. But Cassandra did need rescued, and Narsille's plans needed to be uncovered. It was another tough decision in a steady stream of tough decisions. The first decision to stand and fight the East was the easy one, everything that had followed had grown steadily more complex and ambiguous. This was not the East, and the problems that he faced now were foreign to his warrior mind. He had never thought much of the world outside of Jidorik, but now that he was ruler of West Jidorik it was his responsibility to make sure his country had a firm place in the new world. He didn't like all the new advancements in technology that poured from Narsille in recent years, but if he was to maintain his rule, he must now embrace them, and use them to his own advantage. He looked down at the strange device Cassandra had brought him, called a radio. Such a strange object! It almost seemed like magic to him when he heard voices come from it. Could the fate of his country, and even the entire world, really hinge on such technology? He hoped the fate of men could still be turned by the hands of men and the way of the warrior like he had been taught, but he feared those times may really be fading, and he was the last of a dying breed. Maybe Ralse was right after all?

Draco thought it over and made his decision. He would continue to follow in Ralse's footsteps and pretend to talk peace with Narsille, while secretly working against them.

"Yes, we will find Cassandra and discover what Narsille is planning while there. But you will stay here, Maria. I will go with my own group of trusted advisors while you stay and rule in my stead. Will you do this for me?"

Maria looked at her husband who she had feared lost for so long, and holding back tears reluctantly agreed.

"Yes...I will follow your orders, even though I am loathe to lose you yet again. Will this radio really allow me to talk to you, even though you are many hundreds of miles away?"

"Yes, as long as I am able to speak, you will hear my voice, no matter where I am."

"Then I will wait for you again, although my heart aches at the thought."

"Then it is settled! We leave at daybreak for Narsille. Farin, send message to the city that we are coming on peaceful terms and ready the chocobos for departure."

"At once, my lord."

"Maria, I will return to you safely, I promise. Nothing will keep me away from you a second longer than necessary. Will you wait for me?"

"Yes, Draco...I will wait."

Maria's lips said yes, but her heart was still struggling with the idea to let him leave her side. Something deep inside her told her Draco would not be coming back to Jidorik again. Events were coming together faster and faster, and the future was growing more uncertain by the day. Would she really be able to wait for him this time?


	31. Maidens of the Sea, 'Shore of Memories'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

_The Serpent Trench. Deep beneath its peaceful waves lies a powerful current that guides all travelers northward. Sailors claim this current is the breath of a colossal beast, pushing would-be intruders away from its lair. Curiously, recent dives into the deeper parts of the trench have uncovered giant serpent-like creatures similar to the blind anguiform eel, but several times their length. As is their wont, the locals who discovered the creatures have dubbed them "Latimeria" after the legendary sea serpent said to span the length of a mountain range, and devour all who trespassed into her domain. Superstitions aside, the source of this mighty stretch of warm waters is still a mystery, even to me._

-From _Our Strange World_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 981 PW

* * *

**Part 5.1 - Shore of Memories**

It was another peaceful day along the endless shores of an uneventful stretch of sand. The sun shone hotly across the glistening white sand with only the occasional rock, dredged up by storms long past, breaking the monotony of the beach. There were no lazily waving palm trees here, and no sea creatures happily playing in the balmy seas or flying through the bright blue cloudless skies. No life of any kind roamed these forgotten shores.

One lone individual _was_ wearily making his way across the desolate beach, a figure very much out of place in this sterile paradise. He stepped slowly, stopping every once and a while to remove his weather-beaten hat and stare at the blank face of the rising morning sun. A small flash of light shone from his eyes as he looked up into the sun. He smiled a weary, but not unpleasant, smile as he watched the sun rise over the quietly ebbing ocean horizon.

"I guess there's one thing I like about the ocean," the man spoke to himself quietly, "the sunrises are breathtaking."

Dune stood still for a few moments in quiet appreciation of the new day, then hurried on his way. There was no time to waste, and the Captain would be upset if he was late. It had been a long three weeks in confinement under Narsille, and the chance to finally see the rising sun and feel the fresh morning air on his skin was something he could not pass up. The dark, cold halls of Narsille's underground city felt like a fading dream as he stood on the pleasantly warm sand and squinted into the sun. Yes, this is what he had been eagerly waiting for ever since he had been all but kidnapped by the Committee for his own protection, or so they claimed. Dune knew the truth though, or at least most of it, he thought. As he made his way back to where Captain Bismark was no doubt fuming over his absence, he reflected back on his stay in Narsille for what he hoped would be the last time in a long while.

Not much had happened after his eventful encounter with Sade in the deepest parts of the Order of the Pearl. He had not seen or heard from Sade himself, and his restricted movements kept him in the dark on the happenings above ground as well. The television set in his room was his only real connection to the outside world, and he saw nothing but the same old news reports of everyday life. Many of the things he once saw as interesting now seemed pale and mundane, thanks to his experience in the meeting hall of the Order. How could these people go about their boring existence with such horrible secrets going on right underneath their feet? Dune felt something akin to contempt for these happily naive people wandering the streets above him, unaware of the demons lurking in their perfect city of dreams. He wanted to go back up there and join them again, but with the words of Sade and the prophecy echoing through his thoughts he knew this couldn't happen. He very much wanted to see Mae again, but he wondered if his memory of her too, would be tainted by his experiences down here. He hoped not, and cursed Sade for bringing all this on him. Yes, in the end it was Sade who masterminded everything that had happened to him, and was still holding the strings by which he currently hung, wasn't it? His normally logical mind fully grabbed onto this idea, and happily placed all blame on squarely on that dark man and his evil schemes, without once considering how much of this could have been avoided by his own free will. In his mind, Dune had done nothing wrong and was simply a victim of circumstance. He would play Sade's games a little longer, but the time was coming when he would finally stand up and fight for his freedom.

It was these dark thoughts that haunted him on this bright morning. The icy charm he still wore underneath his shirt knew better though. It knew all of Dune's secret thoughts and desires, and knew it had Dune in its crystalline jaws. Let the fool think Sade is his biggest problem. Let him blame that man for all his problems if it eases his mind. Let him scorn the very cloth from which he was cut if it eases his heart. Let his arrogance and pride swell and build until it consumes him and bursts forth in an explosion of cold hate. Only then will he truly be one with the essence of the crystal, and only then will he be a fit heir to the powers of Doom. For now the crystal slept, waiting for the time when Dune would be in need of a reminder of its power over him. Yes, play the game a little longer, for it is only a little longer until the _real_ game begins.

As the sun rose in the sky and Dune hurried along the sands with his heavy burdens, another man was watching the morning with an equally appreciable eye, and equally heavy burdens. Captain Bismark stood on the deck of his ship, the Maiden of the Sea, and watched as the milky rays of the sun danced over the still sleeping ocean spread out before him. A look of complete contentment shone on his face as he looked out over the vast field of blue. A look of belonging. This was his home, as it always had been. He made sure to greet every day just like this when he was out to sea. He quietly stood alone with his arms folded behind his back, his one eye carefully regarding the day's newest arrival as its face peaked over the waves.

"You're late, as always, old friend," he said to no one in particular, and smiled a toothy grin.

Beating the sun was a ritual of Bismark's that was almost as old as he was. It was his first victory of the day, and as long as he could beat the sun, he felt he could beat anything. It was this unwavering confidence that fill him with the energy he needed to fulfill his formidable role as captain. His crew seemed to feed off this energy, and wherever he went, an aura of high spirits and motivation followed. They would die for him, no questions asked.

Captain Bismark knew this well, and he had as much respect for his crew as his did his beloved ship. He would not let them down this time around. The stakes were higher this time, and he worried if this would be the last peaceful dawn he would be allowed to see until he returned from his latest voyage. The Mordic Sea. That was no place for any sane sailor, and yet here he was on the verge of embarking right into the very heart of it. He would never choose to sail into those tainted waters willingly. He knew as well as Dune that he had no choice but the follow the Committee's orders and find this artifact they wanted so badly. He also knew he would be accompanied by his old friends Indra and Alex on this cursed journey. He knew nothing of his other, less welcome "old friend" for the time being though. If he had, the rising sun would no doubt look as pale and forgotten to him as the waning moon before it. Alex and Indra had been wise to save Bismark the problem of Jonah Levi. No point injecting that poison until absolutely necessary.

As Bismark stood watching the sun, one of his crew members climbed onto the deck from the quarters below and approached him.

"Captain Bismark, sir, all preparations are complete. We're ready to set sail as soon as you give the order."

"Good. As soon as our new arrivals get here, we can set sail for the Mordic. Alex and Indra should be making there way here any minute. Dune should have been back by now. What's taking him so long to get back? Sometimes I think that damn fool must have sand for brains. I can't blame him for his eagerness to take one last walk on dry land though. He's about as ship-shape as a cactus." Captain Bismark let out a loud laugh and settled back into his position of quiet reflection.

"That'll be all, Connor. I'll give the signal to depart as soon as everyone's here. Be ready!"

"Yes, sir!" Connor quickly made his exit and left the Captain to his thoughts.

Yes, Dune was a real piece of work alright. No one had a love of science and what it stood for more than him. He would be one hell of an archeologist some day. Too bad he couldn't appreciate the open sea the way he appreciated a handful of dirt. Captain Bismark had tried to convince Dune that the sea held as many wonders as the land, but it was no use. Something had happened to that man that made the mere mention of the word "water" send shivers down his spine. The last time he had set sail with Dune on board had been a disaster, at least from Dune's perspective. Bismark thought that journey was actually rather tame compared to some of his excursions into the high seas, but Dune thought the world was coming to an end that day. He had no idea just how perilous and unforgiving the sea could be. Dune was worried about this mission, as Bismark knew, but not as much as he should be. The Mordic was no place for experienced seamen, let alone landlubbers like Dune. If Dune knew even half of what was in store for him, he surely would never have agreed to come along, even against the orders of the Committee. The Mordic was no place for man or beast.

Yet, a part of Bismark looked forward to this new adventure with grim excitement. He had never personally gone into the deepest parts of the Mordic himself, only heard the numerous tales of woe from drunken sailors in bars. What was scary was how similar every account was, no matter who he listened to or how much booze was in them. Storms appearing out of no where and tearing ships apart as if guided by some supernatural force. Monstrous beasts and demons rising from the water or appearing out of thin air to terrorize unfortunate sailors. Vast stretches of vile, poisonous water that ate at the very hulls of ships. And many more tales that seemed too horrible to be true, and yet Bismark believed there was some truth to all of them, and many more horrors that no man lived through to pass on. He knew because he had seen the haggard, almost soulless looks in the faces of those men, and knew they had been though something undefinable and real. Something almost too evil for words. He knew because he knew of something else. He knew of the Prophecy as surely as Dune. It was he who had helped uncover it, after all, along with Alex and Indra, almost thirty years ago. The dark days surrounding that tale would remain locked in his mind until he was long dead, though. Some tales were not fit to be shared around a pint of ale. There was great evil in this world, and the Mordic was a prime source of much of that evil. And here he was sailing right into it.

Suddenly the sunrise held no more interest to him, and an intangible darkness passed over him like a second eye patch. He turned away from the indifferent waves and walked back down below deck to help prepare for departure. Moments after he left the deck, a second ship appeared in the distance, quickly nearing the stationary Maiden of the Sea. Another old friend was rising over the horizon, eager to greet the Captain on this fine day, perhaps the last fine day for a long, long time.


	32. Maidens of the Sea, 'An Old Friend'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.2 - An Old Friend**

With the sun now blazing its way across the sky, Dune was nearing the Maiden of the Sea, a fearful look slowly creeping into his face. This may be the Captain's pride and joy, but it looked like it was ready to sink right here in the bay to Dune's eyes. It was plain to see the vessel had seen its fair share of storms from the faded sails, now rising in anticipation of departure, down to the barnacle-encrusted hull of the ship. The entire bottom of the ship was a faded, hazy green from countless years of swimming through the many seas of the world. The part of the ship above water was bleached almost white from exposure to the harsh rays of the sun. Every time Dune looked at it he thought of a piece of driftwood washed up on some ancient shore. This did not ease Dune's mind in the least, but the description was an apt one that couldn't be denied, as far as Dune was concerned.

The only part of the ship Dune could truly appreciate was the exquisite image of a woman carved into the prow of the ship. Bismark had explained to Dune that the woman was the real Maiden of the Sea, and was the patron saint of all sailors. The tale went that any ship blessed with her likeness would never sink in even the most fierce of storms. Elia the sailors had named this figure of legend. Dune couldn't help but almost believe their stories when he gazed on her perfect form jutting out from the ship with her arms outstretched and entwined, palms facing outwards in a gesture of goodwill.

The Maiden of the Sea was indeed a relic from a time when ships needed to rely on wind to move, but the Captain was no fool. The ship was cleverly outfitted with a powerful steam engine that kept it driving forward even in the calmest seas or most chaotic winds. The engine sucked sea water and converted it to steam in much the same way the much more powerful engines beneath Narsille drew power from the earth. This engine had been a gift specially designed by Alex, the ship's first mate whenever he chose to sail with Captain Bismark. Now the engine was silent and only the sails could be heard flapping in the breeze.

As Dune came within shouting distance of the rickety old ship, that look of fear in his face was quickly replaced with alarm. The ship was under attack!

A second ship had quietly coasted into the harbor, and unless Dune was gravely mistaken, was firing on the defenseless Maiden. A familiar feeling of dread flowed over Dune as he made a frantic dash to the Captain's ship. Not even out of the harbor and already things were going to hell, Dune thought miserably.

Dune had just reached the ship when the Captain's large form flew up from the deck and leaned over the railing of the ship's larboard side like some crazy sailor ready to leap headfirst into the water. A look of cold fury had etched its way into the Captain's now red and heaving face. Dune had never seen this look on the Captain before, and with his eye patch and gruff beard, he looked like a gruesome pirate captain ready to slit Dune's throat if he dared step foot on his vessel. Dune almost turned around and ran off into the rocky bluffs adjoining the beach to the rest of the land when the Captain called out to him in a voice equally enraged.

"_Dune get yer ass up here NOW!" _the Captain's voice bellowed down from his precarious position on the ship's railing.

More shots could be heard from the second ship, now only a few hundred feet from the Maiden. As Dune watched helplessly, the huge balls of metal all arced high into the air then fell harmlessly into the waters around the Maiden in a sort of slow motion death plunge. Each cannonball hit the water with a hard "plunk!" sending a spray of mist across the ship's sides, but doing no other damage.

The Captain's voice echoed from the deck once more, and now Dune snapped to life and ran for the docks, hoping the ship would still be there when he arrived.

More shots.

More "plunk!" noises as the shots missed their mark.

Dune raced across the simple wooden dock and up the gangway, half stepping , half leaping onto the ship's deck. He scrambled for a moment against the railing, then flopped onto the deck like a freshly caught fish. Dune recovered himself then looked around, expecting to see a flurry of activity as the captain prepared a counterattack to this new threat. Captain Bismark was just standing on the other side of the ship, along with Alex, Indra, and a few other crew members. The Captain was obviously in a fit of rage as he swore and cursed the mystery ship, but he was giving no orders and no one was preparing any sort of attack or defense that Dune could see. They were all just...watching?

Before Dune could make it to where the Captain and others stood, the attack ceased and everything was quiet again, except for the Captain's voice still roaring across the waves at the other ship.

"_How dare you fire at my ship you old sea goat! Levi, I know you can hear me! Answer me or I'll ram my ship right down that ugly throat of yours!_"

The Captain continued his own barrage of insults at the second ship for another minute or two, then settled down enough to turn around and see that Dune was safely onboard.

"It's about time Dune! Did you see that? Did you see what that bilge rat had the nerve to do to me? I swear I'll wring his bony neck if he takes one filthy step on my Maiden! I'll kill him! I'll..."

"Calm down, Mobius," Alex said from the Captain's side. "You know Jonah is just doing this to get a rise out of you. He's probably over there right now listening to you and laughing his head off."

The Captain began to calm down now, and after a few moments and a few more angry words fired off the starboard bow, he turned to the frightened crew and gave the order to weigh anchor and shove off. While Bismark resumed his duties as captain, Alex and Indra walked over to Dune and gave him a hearty pat on the back. At least someone was happy to see Dune safely on board.

"It's good to see you again, Dune," Indra said cheerfully. "I see you managed to survive your stay in Narsille's undercity. Good, good! Did you encounter any problems with our little mission? Please fill us in! Kumiro could only tell me so much, but it sounds like you two had quite the adventure down there."

Dune tried his best to relate what had transpired, but his memory of those events was growing more and more foggy as time wore on, like a dream that eluded him the harder he tried to grasp it. The two things he did remember quite clearly were Sade's claim that he was dead and the words of the Prophecy. His head throbbed as he relived the memory of that encounter with destiny.

Both Alex and Indra looked at Dune gravely, not sure what to make of his story. They of course knew of the Prophecy and its contents, but Sade's claim was something unexpected. Indra spoke up once more, although his tones were now subdued as he talked of matters best not talked about.

"Dead you say? I don't think so. I know you think us fools for believing in such things as 'magic' and all that, but we are still men of science, and it is plain to see that you are as alive as we are. Sade is a very mysterious and cunning man. If you have something he wants, he'll try and get it by any means at his disposal. I know I don't need to tell you this, but his words are poison. I wouldn't put it past him to try and frighten you into giving him the artifact. I'm glad you resisted him, however you managed it."

Now Alex spoke, his voice the voice of authority, "Dune, listen to me. It would be wise not to talk to Mobius about the Prophecy. I guess you could say he's not much of a believer. He doesn't believe in destiny or fate and mentioning anything about it to him is likely to get you a swift kick from his wooden leg." Dune unconsciously rubbed the back of his head at this, and had no trouble believing Alex's words. "He believes his life is his own to live, and nothing is going to change his mind at this late hour." Alex spoke as if he knew exactly how that particular conversation went from experience.

No one needed to ask why the Prophecy would be a sore spot for Bismark in particular. They all knew what it had to say on this subject.

_Before the Eye of the storm that does not sleep, the Elder of the Seas will sink into the Deep._

If they were to assume Dune was the "Child of the Sands", thenthere was no doubt who the "Elder of the Seas" was. All eyes were on the Captain on this mission. If it was possible to cheat Fate, they were going to do everything in their power to do it.

While the three conversed, the second ship slowly made its way closer and closer to the Maiden. As it neared, Dune could plainly see that it was in much better shape than the Maiden of the Sea. The sides of the ship were clean and gilded with long gleaming strips of gold from prow to stern. The ship also had sails, but they were silky white and seemed to reflect the sunlight like mirrors. Unlike the Maiden of the Sea, this ship had cannons positioned along the sides. The Maiden had never been designed for combat, and had always been a purely scientific and exploratory ship. In a time when maritime combat was almost unheard of, a ship with weapons was considered an aberration.

The biggest eye catcher on the entire ship by far was the figure engraved on its prow. A bright glowing goddess made out of mythril rose from the front of the ship with statuesque grace. One arm reached out to the heavens while the other hung to the side and beckoned oncoming ships with a globe of purest gold. Such a gaudy piece of masonry would have seemed out of place on any other vessel, but this ship was covered in such glammers, producing a strong sense of awe and intimidation for any sailors daring to go up against it. This golden ship was the infamous Golden Goddess, the pride of Bismark's heated rival, Jonah Levi. And Levi had made his presence known in his usual extravagantly overt way.

"What about him?" Dune asked as he peered out at the ship slowly approaching the Maiden like a stealthy predator waiting to strike.

"That would be our partner for this mission, Jonah Levi," Alex said dishearteningly. "I had half-hoped he wouldn't really be joining us, but I guess that idea was shot out of the water, literally."

"Can we really trust a man who just fired at us?"

"We'll have to. He's here now, and I doubt we can simply ask him to leave. We'll just have to put up with him until we get this job done. Hopefully we can get through this without needing to rely on his help."

"At the very least it looks like we'll have to meet and greet his ugly mug again," Indra said. "His ship's closing in on us fast, and he'll be wanting to wish us well, I'm sure. Remember what we said before, Dune. Do not trust him, or pity him."

After what he had just seen, Dune had no trouble following Indra's advice. The ship was now so close to the Maiden that Dune could have jumped over to it had he any desire at all to step foot on its deck. The ship came to a stop just a couple feet from broadsiding the Maiden and Dune caught a glimpse of the infamous captain of the Golden Goddess for the first time.

Jonah Levi was not a handsome man. Most people who met him face to face thought he was Death himself come to claim them. The man was tall, taller than Dune or Alex, and very gaunt. He rose up over the heads of his crew like some fragile tower ready to fall over at any moment, and looked it. His spindly frame was hidden most of the time by a large peacoat the color of scummy seawater. Probably the most striking feature on the man was his gaunt, ghost-like face. It was stark white and pale as a full moon and streaked with the deep furrows of old age. Most people could only stand to look directly at him for a few moments before turning away in shamefaced disgust. Like Bismark, he only had one eye and one leg, although Levi was missing his left eye and leg, while Bismark was missing his right. Instead of an eye patch, however, Levi simply had a empty socket yawning out from his face like a crater. He occasionally had a glass eye he wore, but Levi rather enjoyed the shocked look on people's faces when he went without it, and routinely "forgot" to put it in. Levi had long greasy black hair that hung down around his face in sparse threads like strips of dead kelp. He wore a greenish rain cap the color of his coat over his head, and a big black fisherman's boot on his good leg that completed the look of some long-dead soul who had just walked up from the depths of the sea.

Levi's demeanor was almost the exact opposite of his appearance. The man looked even frailer than his formidable age suggested, but had a fire in his belly that was only matched by Bismark's. His one good eye always had a mischievous glint in it, and his wide smile filled with rotten, yellowing teeth had all the charm of the devil's own. The man had a certain negative charm about him that tended to attract ruffians and ne'er-do-wells of all sorts, and it was this caste that made up most of his crew. His impish zeal and reputation had made him one of the most reviled captains on the high seas. As Dune had seen first-hand, Levi enjoyed tormenting his adversaries and would go to any length for a good laugh. And Captain Jonah Levi liked to laugh.

The only thing that exceeded Levi's deviousness was his greed. His Golden Goddess was a testament to that greed, and he was always looking for ways to increase his already vast fortune. Levi was the type of man who would stoop to even the lowest levels of humanity for the right price. No one on the Maiden of the Sea doubted he had been paid a hefty price to sail with them into the Mordic in search of the third artifact. What they did not know was that the Committee had paid him nothing. What they gave him was even better. A promise to find what he had long considered only a myth and foolish tale thought up by delirious sailors, but had secretly searched for all his life. Levi had heard rumors since his earliest days as a captain about a sunken castle made entirely of gold at the bottom of the sea, but had dismissed it as ridiculous in his mind. The very idea of a castle of such gaudy wealth had made an impression on Levi's greedy heart, though, and he had never forgotten the tale. Sailors who came out of the Mordic alive and sane(and this was not a large number) had spoken of a city of gold glistening just under the waves, inviting them to jump to their deaths, and Levi had always listened with a lustful ear. The Committee had told Levi that this was no myth, and there really was a city of untold riches under the waves of the Mordic, waiting for a captain brave enough to tap it. It was here the Committee said he would find the most precious of all the treasures in the sea, and to bring it to them. This was all Levi needed to hear to secure his place on this mission. Bismark's presence was just icing on the cake. This was the chance of a lifetime, and Levi was not going to let anyone or anything stop him from finding his life's dream.

The captain of the Golden Goddess smiled his most malignant grin as his vessel sidled up next to the Maiden of the Sea and Captain Bismark came into view. Today was a good day for Jonah Levi.


	33. Maidens of the Sea, 'Unpleasantries'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.3 - Unpleasantries**

"Greetings, friends!"

Levi raised his hands in a cheerful wave to his fellow travelers a few yards away on the Maiden of the Sea. Bismark muttered a curse under his breath and stalked off without a word, his wooden leg stabbing angrily at the deck as he did. Alex and Indra stood their ground and looked at Levi with suspicious eyes. Dune simply stared at the ghastly figure waving and smiling at them as if they were nothing more than well-met companions on the high seas. The rest of the crew on deck went about their duties without so much as glancing in Levi's direction. There were no friends of Levi's on this ship.

After a few tense moments Indra spoke up, his usual carefree manner cast aside in favor of a more fitting role for dealing with one of the vilest men he had ever known. "So we meet again, Jonah. How many years has it been? Not enough, I'd say. If you are quite done with your attack on our vessel, then I say we get this mission started properly."

Levi let out a raspy laugh laced with years of disease and decay. "Only fooling around with you, Indie. You'll forgive an old man for his old habits, I hope?"

"I forgive you for nothing," Indra said coolly.

"Well I won't beg for it, as you know." Levi shot a lopsided glance at Alex, who shuddered as if hit by a cold wind, but remained silent. "The past is the past, though. We are partners in crime once again, and you don't have to worry about my antics. I assure you my interests in this mission far outweigh any pleasure I might get from watching you lot fail, as great as that may be. I was just getting it out of my system, you see."

"You're rotten to the core, Jonah, and if you try anything on this mission, I will see to it personally that you never see land again. If we can get through this mission without your assistance, then we'll try our damnedest to do it."

"The feeling's mutual, old friend. Now if we are done with the pleasantries, I say it's time to set sail and find whatever it is the Committee has entrusted us to find. I pray the Maiden Elia will allow us safe passage through her realm, then." Levi said this well-known sailor's oath with mock empathy, and his real intent couldn't have been more obvious to those listening.

Levi dismissed the Maiden with a bored flick of his gnarled hand and quickly spun around on his own wooden leg and marched off to his place in the middle of his ship, barking orders to his crew every step of the way. He stopped just under the mainmast of his ship and looked sharply up at the vacant perch high above. "Kite! Where are you, you ungrateful whorechild! Get up here and man your post! Good-for-nothing brat, I'll throw you up there myself if you don't show yourself this instant!"

A young teenage girl leaped up from the pile of crates and barrels she had been loading and ran silently towards the mast, dropping the barrel she had been carrying in her panicked haste. She looked scared to death, and was thin and pale enough to fit the part. She wore nothing but filthy rags and a filthy ribbon to tie back her long black hair in a bun. As she passed Levi, he gave her a rough push towards the rigging that almost sent her sprawling to the deck. She simply absorbed the blow and continued on her way in mute submissiveness. Despite her malnourished look, she scrambled up the rigging to her post with the nimble agility of a cat, ignoring the leers of her fellow crewman as she went. This oddity among the rest of Levi's burly crew caught Dune's eye, and he squinted through his glasses to catch a better glimpse of her as she scurried up the rigging like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. Who was that, and what incentive could she possibly have to stay on the ship of a man like Levi?

Dune didn't have time to think about the mystery girl, for as soon as Levi's ship had started to drift away, the Maiden lurched forward and began to move away from the beach as well. This sudden movement pushed all trains of thought out of Dune's head except for one.

"I _hate_ the sea."

Nausea gripped Dune and he groped for something to hold onto as the old familiar feeling worked its way through his stomach. Some things never changed.

After a few days at sea, Dune slowly got used to being on the gently rolling deck of the ship, and ventured from the room he had holed himself up in after the unpleasant beginning. The sun was low in the sky and dusk was just over the horizon, painting the sea a soft golden hue as blue-green turned to yellow, orange, and finally red. He looked out over the vastness of the steadily reddening sea and sky, and marveled at how like the desert it could appear. The sloping waves slowly rose and fell much like the sand dunes seemed to under the hot desert sun. As beautiful as it was, to Dune it was still nothing but a poor imitation of the grandeur of the desert sands he longed for.

"Quite a sight, as always," a gruff voice spoke from behind him. Dune, lost in his thoughts, jumped at the voice and turned to meet Bismark's stern but peaceful face. Whatever mood Levi had put him in had long since passed now that he was back in his element.

"I'm afraid I'll never share your love of the sea, Captain, but I must admit it does calm my nerves, even though it still upsets my body." Both men chuckled at this, and continued staring out to sea.

"Here, Dune. Look over there and tell me what you see." The Captain pointed straight ahead into the endless, and altogether unremarkable, waves.

"I don't see anything. What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"An island. And you won't find any trace of it now. There used to be a large star-shaped island right over there, but it sank to the bottom of the sea almost thirty years ago. I came up here to see for myself what had become of it."

"And what did become of it?" Dune asked cautiously. He had noted the sad tones in the Captain's voice as he spoke of the island, and knew whatever happened on this spot wasn't just another history lesson for him. This was a very personal place for the Captain.

The Captain said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat and spat into the ocean.

"This is where I lost both my leg and my eye. This is a cursed place, Dune, and the sooner we pass it by the better. Although, where we're going is probably even worse."

Dune looked out across the waves, hoping to glimpse even a tiny outcropping of rock. There was nothing, though. Not even the smallest sign that any land had ever been here. What could have happened here to cause an entire island to completely vanish beneath the now placid waters?

"What happened here? And what happened between you and Captain Levi?" Dune's curious nature got the better of him and he couldn't help but pester the Captain about his experiences, especially after seeing firsthand the almost unnatural hatred between the two men. He rarely ever spoke of his past, and as Dune peered at the stony expression he now wore, it seemed now would be no exception.

The Captain spoke in clipped tones, rushing through the unpleasantries before his memories could resurface fully. "It's none of your concern. The past is the past, and I have no reason to be digging up those old stories. Especially not here and now." Bismark waved his hand contemptuously in the direction of the Golden Goddess, which hovered menacingly behind them like a vulture waiting to pick the bones of a dying animal.

"We'll be entering the Mordic by tomorrow if the wind keeps up, Dune, so I suggest you get prepared for the dive," Bismark stated matter of factly, changing the subject to something less personal, and less painful. "I don't believe you've ever done this before, so it would be wise to figure out what the hell you're doing before you jump in the water, got it?" Bismark gave Dune a look that said the conversation was over, and waited as he wisely left to return below deck. Once he was sure he was alone, Bismark took a small pouch out from under his thick captain's coat and held it tightly to his chest. When he spoke again, it was in the voice of a man many years younger, and yet at the same time many years older.

"May the hands of Elia guide you to your final rest, old friend." This was a common sailor's prayer for lost companions, and unlike Levi, Bismark's voice was full of geniune reverance towards the sea's power.

Bismark carefully untied the pouch and emptied its contents into the waters, then tossed the pouch in as well. He sighed and turned to leave. A sudden movement in the waters below caught his eye and he turned back towards the open sea. Had something moved down there? He couldn't be sure with his one eye, but it looked as if something had swam by and snatched up his pouch. For sure, he could no longer see the empty bag floating on the surface. He sighed again, and left the deck for the comfort of his bed. He was too tired to be sure of anything right now, and was just glad to have gotten the chance to keep a very important promise.

Across the waves on Levi's ship, people were still bustling about keep themselves busy, for fear of Levi's wrath if caught slacking. Levi was nowhere to be seen, and instead was holding counsel in his private quarters with a cloaked figure who seemed to melt into the very shadows of the sparsely lit cabin. Levi listened to the figure with visible annoyance while savagely carving a hunk of meat from the extravagantly prepared meal before him. A fine way to spend his dinner, he mused.

"You don't need to tell me what to do. I am Captain here, so leave me alone! I'll handle Bismark and the rest of them in my own way." Levi yelled out into the darkness, as if speaking to himself.

Out of the shadows a voice responded to his, utterly devoid of any emotion or feeling, but still full of power. "I _will_ tell you what to do as long as I am on your vessel, Levi. Thankfully, that won't be much longer if things go the way Sade predicts they will. I will take my leave when the opportunity arises. Until then, we do nothing. You will wait for my signal, understand?" The ghostly figure's casually tilted head rose to meet Levi's one-eyed glare, daring him to defy his words. His cold, grey eyes showed no sign of life behind them.

"Bah!" Levi slammed his knife into the wooden table with an audible "thwack!" that would send any of his crewman running from the room in terror. The shadowy figure merely stood and waited for the rest of this tiresome man's ranting that he knew was coming. "You Committee people are all the same. You think you know everything. Well I'm telling you things aren't going to go the way you want to out here. The sea is a fickle mistress, and no amount of scheming can change her mind. If things start to get out of hand, I'm going to do what I need to do to get the job done. I won't be denied the treasure of a lifetime because of you, or anyone else." Levi plucked the knife from the table and waved it threateningly at the shadows. "Do _you _understand?"

He understood. This man was as arrogant as Sade, but without the almost palpable power and presence to back it up. Let the "Captain" have his ship, if only to stop his whining. It did not matter which way the mission went, as long as the real treasure he sought was in his hands by the end. "Fine. But I have my own orders, and if you get in my way, I won't hesitate to get rid of you or your ship. Things have been set in motion that are far beyond the likes of you, _Captain_. You're just a bit player, remember that." He spat Levi's title out with measured petulance, and savored the look of outrage on the ugly fool's face.

"We'll see who's the bit player in the end, Phantom. Now get out of my sight - what little of you there is to see, anyways. You're spoiling my dinner." Levi dug his knife into his meal once more, signaling the end of the conversation. Phantom nodded in mock acquiescence and wordlessly faded back even further into the shadows until he truly was invisible. If he left by the door, Levi didn't see or hear it, and didn't care. The sooner this lackey of the Committee was off his ship, the better. Let Bismark jump at his own shadow for a while. Levi grinned at this thought and resumed his meal as if the phantasm of a man known only as Phantom had never been there at all.

Outside, the sun began to set on the sea, now stained blood-red, as the quietly approaching waters of the Mordic beckoned both ships to their destruction.


	34. Maidens of the Sea, 'Into the Unknown'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.4 - Into the Unknown**

As the fifth day of the mission wore on, the two ships entered the Mordic Sea without any fanfare. All aboard both ships knew of the horror stories surrounding this place, and none of them had expected such a lackluster entrance. Half of the combined crews had expected to be forbidden entrance altogether by monstrous gales or nightmarish creatures from the black heart of this sea. The waters were at peace, as if there had never been so much as a whisper of life or death in these waters. The clear blue water mirrored the clear blue sky, both the image of tranquillity. On the Maiden, Dune peered out to sea, his instincts telling him that something was not right here. An old habit that he had long since stopped being aware of slowly returned to him as the ship made its way past the threshold of the Mordic Sea. He grabbed at his chest.

"Captain..."

"I know, Dune. This isn't the legendary sea of death we were expecting." Bismark responded as soon as Dune had opened his mouth. "Be careful. Unnaturally calm waters belie violent depths."

"Are we really going to just keep going, then?" Dune's eyes darted from one empty patch of water to another, waiting for something to jump out and swallow the ship whole. "Shouldn't we, I don't know, prepare ourselves for whatever's out there?"

Bismark managed a grim laugh at this. "Hah, no my boy, there's nothing we can do now except go forward and meet whatever may or may not be out there head on. There is, however, something we can do to shed some light on this little mystery. Connor!" Bismark waved his hand at the good-sized crew member who Dune recognized was also a member of Bismark's crew from the Figaro.

The man was in front of Bismark within moments of being called. "Yes, Captain? Is it time?"

"Aye, go get Indie. It's time that old bat put his wits to use on this mission He should be in his quarters, no doubt talking to that little friend of his. And he calls me crazy for talking to the sea!"

"Right away, Captain!" Connor was gone in a flash, eager to carry out his captain's orders.

"He's a good man, Dune. I knew his father, and after he died, I offered to look after him. He's served me well these past five years, and has grown into quite the man of the sea. Of all my crew I trust him the most. Don't forget that if you ever need help."

"Of course, Captain. Any member of your crew I'll always trust with my life." Dune said this with complete honesty. He knew first hand how well the Captain's crew worked, especially when things went wrong.

"Aye, and that you should! Not a finer crew anywhere. Better than the lot Levi's got working for him, that's for sure. I'm surprised that old goat hasn't gotten a knife in his back by now." The Captain said this with glee, and Dune suspected this is exactly what his friend would do to Captain Levi himself if given half the chance. Their hatred must run deep indeed.

"Mobius! I'm guessing you're ready to submit to my particular talents now that yours are useless?" Indie's cheerful voice resounded across the deck as he approached the two men, stroking his long beard. His faithful moogle friend Kumiro happily trailed behind him, seeming as happy and at home as if he were still in his native caves. The waves and rocking deck did not seem to bother him one bit, unlike Dune who still had to grip the sides of the ship whenever he stood on deck. Once again Dune felt a twinge of light-hearted envy at the creature's flexible nature. Was there any place this creature didn't fit in?

"I know you're dying to show me up, Indie, so let's see what that little device that you love so much can tell us about this place."

Indie smiled and reached into his long flowing coat. He pulled out a small circular device with a flourish, and flicked its lid open, revealing a complicated display of information scrolling across an electronic screen.

Seeing Dune's look of bewilderment at the mass of numbers and figures on the display, his smile widened and he said, "This is a weather monitoring device, Dune. My own design. It will tell us just what is going on that our eyes and ears cannot." He studied it for a moment, looked up at the barren sea, then back down at the device. After a few moments he turned and walked to the other side of the ship and repeated his observations. He went to a few other choice spots on the ship, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper with each change in position. At last he returned to Dune and Captain Bismark, unable to hide a look of disappointment on his face.

"Well?" Bismark asked, already guessing the answer.

Indie grunted and responded with a note of frustration that was uncommon for a man who was always confident of success in his plans and talents. "Nothing! It's impossible, but the ATLAS isn't picking up _anything_."

"Nothing, eh? I must say it's nice to see you appreciate the mysteries of the seas for a change, but I had hoped for a bit more than nothing." Despite the unexpected failure of Indie's device, Bismark seemed unsurprised, and almost pleased with the result. "Surely there must be something here to pick up, even if there isn't a cloud in the sky, am I right?"

"Damn right! Even without a single cloud, the ATLAS should still read thermal currents, wind direction, approaching fronts and a hundred other variables all within the range of the satellite link-up. According to my readout, there isn't a single thing stirring within a thousand square miles of us." Indie scratched his head, his look of worry and puzzlement now mimicked in his moogle's face as well. "It's as if this sea is in its own bubble of dead air. I suspect that's why there are no birds or fish here. No wind, no sea currents. _Nothing._" He lapsed back into a contemplative silence.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Dune's sudden comment laced with a grim sort of confidence surprised Indie, but Bismark remained stolid. "It was like this in the Thanas as well. I'm willing to bet if you had tried to use that device there, you would have gotten the same results. There's something here that doesn't want to be found, and it may be interfering with your device." Dune said this carefully, trying hard not to step into the realm of "magic" that Indie and Alex seemed to have no problems entering when it suited them. There were other forces than magic in the world, and despite his experiences, Dune was certain they had rational, scientific explanations behind them. He would not be played for a fool by the very world he was trying to understand. Once again he grabbed at his chest.

"Ah yes, the infamous Thanas expedition. I had heard all about that, of course." Indie's eyes gleamed once again with his scientific genius as new ideas formed in his head, swelling and combining with the new implications before him. "Hmmm...yes...I think you may be right, Dune. Still...I have one more trick up my sleeve that may shed a little light." Indie glanced down at his companion and patted him on the head. "Kumiro, if you would be so kind..."

The moogle knew what his master wanted, and didn't waste any time putting his own brand of radar to work. He straightened up the red puff of fur on his head and it quivered like an antenna of some insect tasting the air, then froze in place. The moogle gave a squeak of surprise, then the ball of fur drooped down to its former relaxed position. The moogle shook his head vigorously, but not in disappointment. He had found something alright, something he didn't like.

"Well that was entertaining, but if I know your little mate there as well as I think I do, I'm guessing he's found something your little gadget couldn't, am I right Indie?" Bismark said this with a light tone, but his eyes were serious. That little ball of fluff was mighty spooked by whatever it sensed. He'd bet his wooden leg on it.

"Yes, he has. But whatever it is overwhelmed his senses. There's definitely something here. Something big." Indie looked down at that poor creature, shaking its head, slower now, trying to shake off whatever had intruded on its senses. "C'mon, Kumiro, what did you sense?"

The moogle stopped shaking its head, and stood still, slightly shaking as the feeling passed. It looked up at Indie, and spoke in its strange language that always brought a smile to Dune's face, even now.

There was no smile in Indie's face as he mentally translated Kumori's words.

"Moogles are very adept at sensing a variety of things that humans cannot, especially weather patterns and biorhythms. This is why I had devoted such a large amount of my time to them. Marvelous creatures..." Indie trailed off, his mind still analyzing the meaning of his friend's scattered words.

"What do you mean by weather patterns and biorhythms, Professor? What kind of information can they pick up?" Dune asked, hoping to spur Indie back into telling them what the moogle had felt.

Always quick to answer questions directed at him, Indie snapped to and responded to Dune's query with the oblivious tone of a teacher tricked into a tangent to his lecture.

"Well, Dune, that ball of fur on their head acts like a highly specialized radar. With it, moogles can detect many of the same things my ATLAS can, although they interpret it through emotion and feeling, not cold hard numbers. In fact, it was their unique ability that I based much of my research on for the device. Unlike my device, moogles are very sensitive to all forms of nature, not just the weather. They can detect life just as easily and accurately as the weather, and I think they can even communicate with other life forms almost telepathically through their talents. How else could I have developed such a rapport with Kumiro, here? Sometimes I think he may even be smarter than me! He's certainly one-upped me today, hasn't he?" Indie finished his miniature lecture with a good-hearted laugh, almost forgetting the point he was trying to make as he explained his life's work.

Dune listened to all this with the rapt fascination of a scientist's mind, and was soon lost in his own thoughts on the implications of moogle-based technology. Indie's deep laughter brought him out of his reverie and one quick glance at Bismark's face told him he was lucky it wasn't something more physical that brought him back. "Sorry...it's all so interesting...I guess I was daydreaming again."

"Alright, then Indie. What does your moogle sense here?" Bismark said, trying to steer this conversation back before Dune and Indie veered off into their own little worlds again. Scientists.

"Well my readings weren't entirely incorrect. Kumiro doesn't sense any more atmospheric activity than my ATLAS, which isn't surprising. What he does sense, though, is life. He can't describe it to me in words very well, but there is definitely something alive in this sea, all around us."

"I thought you said that there shouldn't be any life here at all without any currents?" Dune asked.

"Yes, you're right, there shouldn't be. Perhaps what Kumiro is sensing is the sea itself..."

Bismark gave a small nod of understanding, but Dune didn't seem quite convinced. Dune kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to get into another conversation on magic, which he suspected this one was only a few steps away from.

"Well! It seems the only thing we know for sure is that we don't really know what's going on in this blasted ocean. Hah! My only consolation is that Levi is sure to be as confused as we are." Bismark chided.

"What do we do, then?" Dune asked. "We're supposed to be finding something here, and so far the only clue we have is a moogle's intuition."

Bismark looked at Dune for a few moments, as if he was processing some new piece of information, then took a step closer and stood face to face with Dune.

"I think we have just the key to unlocking this place, and it's been sitting right under our noses. Literally in your case, Dune." Bismark casually reached for the pocket he had noticed Dune grabbing throughout their entire conversation.

"Hey! What...don't! It's mine!" Dune almost shrieked without even thinking what he was saying. A sharp stab of cold pain shivered through Dune's body, and for just a moment the old felling of horror and doom was alive in him again.

Bismark was no fool. He had only pretended to reach for the crystal, just to confirm a suspicion. He quickly drew his hand back before even touching Dune, as if a spark had shocked him into pulling back. Yes, the poor creature still had it with him. Bismark couldn't help but feel sorry for Dune. He didn't know exactly what the nature of this crystal was, but from the pained look on Dune's face and the quite un-Dune-like reaction to his innocent motion, he was quite sure it had him as surely as he had it. And that chill air that came from Dune when he reached out...what was that?

"Dune! Snap out of it!" Bismark shouted.

"Huh? Sorry, Captain...I-I'm not myself today." Dune reverted to his even older habit of pushing up his glasses and attempted a small smile as he tried to regain his poise. "There's something about this place that doesn't feel right to me. I think I almost know how Kumiro must feel. It's like something powerful is pulling at the edges of my mind, trying to rip me apart in two different directions. I guess I'm just a little jumpy."

"Dune," Bismark said softly, not wanting to agitate him further with what he was about to say, "take out that little trinket of yours."

"What? What are you talking about?" Dune didn't put any conscious thought into the lie. The crystal could take care of itself.

"You know what I'm talking about." Bismark said sternly. "You've been grabbing at your chest like an old man with a bad heart all day. It's this place. That thing in your pocket, it's reacting to this place, and the further in we go, the more agitated it makes you." Bismark knew he had to sound as non-threatening as possible. He had seen Dune's face contort with fury and pain like this before, during their meetings with Dehr. If he pushed too hard...

"Take it out and show it to us, Dune. Please."

Dune tried to remain calm, but he could feel the crystal's voice in his head, telling him danger was near. These were his friends though, and he had to fight the influence this damned thing had on him. He _had_ to.

He slowly reached into his shirt pocket and wrapped his fingers around the small black shape resting quietly - _but not too quietly, Dune_ - within. Every inch he had to pull it out was a struggle, like pulling it from a pocket full of glue, but his better instinct was winning over. These were his friends, and he could trust them. He must trust them. He had beat this power once before and told Bismark his dark secret, and now he would show it to him.

Dune's hand emerged from his pocket in a tight fist, the veins standing out on the back of his hand as he fought against the urge to thrust it back inside, away from prying eyes. It felt so heavy to him. He opened his fist in front of him and revealed a small black shape, so black it looked as if Dune was holding his hand around a hole in his chest.

Bismark and Indie said nothing. They didn't need to. The crystal reacted almost at once, a cool blue aura forming around it, and then Dune. He felt his mind going blank and prepared himself for another black-out...and then he was back. The cold was pulsing through him still, but he remained in control. With the deep fury and fierce protective nature of the crystal subdued among friends, it had no power over him.

Dune looked around at the others and then spoke with some effort. "The crystal...it's responding to something here. I can feel its presence. The sister to this one is somewhere out here alright. I think..." Dune stopped and turned his head out towards the bleak waveless sea, scanning the horizon. "I think I can find it."

Indie was flabbergasted, but not skeptical. He may be a scientist, trained to use all his technical prowess to solve problems with logic and cool intellect, but he knew from experience sometimes that just wasn't enough. For the second time in his long life, he was absolutely convinced that he was witnessing magic at work, right in front of his eyes. Yes, things were coming together. This was so similar to the last time, it could be no mere coincidence. Dune was very much like Jehad. Indie prayed that Dune didn't share that man's grisly fate.

Bismark had expected something like this, but the power still scared him. He needed to be very careful from now on. This black thing had a life of its own, and if they all weren't careful, it would consume each and every one of them, starting with Dune. If it wasn't already too late for him, that is. He steadied himself, then gave the order.

"Lead the way, Dune."

The Maiden shifted course, and made its way straight into the heart of the Mordic. It seemed so far the still waters would let them pass in peace. The Golden Goddess shifted its course as well, and followed Dune's lead.

"Well, well, well...it seems Bismark knows something I don't." Levi muttered to himself as he watched the Maiden with a keen eye. "Phantom may be right, but I'll be damned if that coward steals my thunder. The treasure _will_ be mine. Enjoy the smooth sailing while you can boys."


	35. Maidens of the Sea, 'Call of the Abyss'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.5 - Call of the Abyss**

"Right here."

That was enough for Bismark. He gave the order for full stop and dropped the anchor. Whatever they were supposed to find, Bismark believed this was where it lay. He trusted Dune on this, even if he didn't trust the source of his newfound sense of direction.

"Well Dune, this is your show now. Are you ready to dive?" Bismark asked.

"Yes, Captain. I'm pretty sure I understand how it works. I'm not looking forward to sinking to the bottom of the ocean, but this sea is so quiet I don't think I'll run into much of anything on the way down."

"Don't be so sure, Dune. The seas aren't entirely dead." Bismark jeered as he pointed to Levi's ship still haunting their aft quarter. "I know he isn't going to sit back and let us do all the work now that we're so close to the treasure. Watch yourself."

"Yes, Captain."

Dune walked over to the edge of the ship and looked down, hoping to catch some glimpse of what was waiting for him. He could see nothing except the empty water and his own pale reflection staring back at him. This wasn't going to be fun, and yet he was thrilled at the prospect of getting a chance to do archeology of a different sort than he was used to. Who knows what kind of history the bottom of the ocean might be hiding from him? From the whole world! Dune shuddered with an eerie sense of excitement.

Dune stepped into the heavy suit designed to let him breath and move underwater. He checked all the valves and latches just as he had been shown and then pulled on the cord that attached him to the ship. If he was in trouble, he just had to either give a signal via the com or pull on this cord, and he would be hoisted back up to the surface safely. Bismark assured him that he had nothing to worry about, but having such a tenuous connection to the only dry surface within a thousand miles disturbed him.

Alex and Indie were now both on the deck, eager to see Dune safely on his way, and safely back. As first mate and the chief engineer on board, Alex was in charge of outfitting Dune and keeping in contact with him during the dive. Alex looked a bit worried when he heard of Dune's reaction, but he continued to believe this was all a part of their destiny, and gave in to fate's whims. Sometimes he wondered at just what point should he stop allowing things to progress and make a stand against what he thought was supposed to happen. Would he let one of his friends die just to fulfill some stupid prophecy? How much power could one man have against the forces that were guiding them to...wherever this was all going? He pushed these thoughts aside and approached Dune with a worried look in his eyes.

"Dune, whatever happens down there, we'll be waiting for you up here. Come back to us, do you hear me?" Alex said.

"Don't let this old fart worry you Dune. You'll be fine. Just do what you do best and find that blasted rock so we can all go home." Indie replied with a cheerful tone he didn't quite feel. He was worried for the same reasons Alex was, but wasn't going to give into superstitions quite as easily.

Bismark didn't say anything, he just gave Dune a short salute and gave him the okay to dive. His eyes were as full of worry as everyone else's, but he had no thoughts of fate or superstitions on his mind. The terrible and unpredictable power of the sea was more than enough to tighten his jaw as he watched Dune go over the side of the ship.

Dune watched in wonder as he sunk deeper and deeper into the ocean depths. He looked up at the bottom of the ship as he descended. The sunlight was glimmering off the waters above, and as he glanced back down into the depths, a strong fear tugged at his heart. In one direction was the warm glow of the sun and the comforting sight of his ship. In stark contrast to this was the infinite expanse of the abyss surrounding him on all sides, threatening to suffocate him as he fell into it.

There was no life below, just as Indie had predicted. This world was all silence and unavoidable blackness on all sides. Even the water above him was now progressing further and further into total darkness. Soon he would have to turn on his searchlight and hope he hit the bottom. The crystal was still in his hand, pulsing with impotent fury as he used it for his own means. Yes, he was getting much closer now.

Once all light had gone from the world around him, Dune flicked the switch inside his suit to see if there was anything at all yet to be seen. A wide swath of white light flooded the area, and to his dismay he could still see nothing except pitch black darkness. When would he reach the bottom? What if there _was _no bottom?

Fears of falling endlessly into the abyss were quelled after a minute when he caught sight of sand reflecting his beacon far below him. It was almost surreal watching the distant seabed rise up to meet him, like he was in some sort of slow-motion freefall.

He hit the bottom with an audible thud, and a cloud of long-undisturbed sand rose up in all directions, momentarily blinding him. How many years had this sand lay here? How many centuries? Millennia? The scope of this ancient and untouched world left Dune in giddy awe.

"Testing...one, two...testing...do you read me Alex?" Dune spoke in measured tones into a small microphone in front of his mouth.

A brief silence, then a soft crackling sound followed by Alex's relieved voice told Dune that everything was so far in perfect working order.

"Yes Dune, we hear you. Have you found anything yet? What do you see?"

"...Nothing. There was nothing on the way down, and there's nothing here except sand. Almost reminds me of being back in the desert. It's certainly hot enough in this suit!" Dune allowed himself a small laugh and was glad to relieve some of the growing tension.

"Keep us posted, then. If you see anything at all let us know."

"I will."

The cloud of dust had settled back to rest, and Dune started his trek across the barren sands of this underwater desert. Dune marveled at how similar this place was to the Thanas. No life, no signs of habitation, just sand, sand, sand as far as the eye could see. The growing chill in his soul told him this was not the true face of the Mordic, and he pressed on. Soon he would find whatever it was that kept pulling at his mind.

"Wait a minute...Alex, I think I see something up ahead. It looks almost like a mountain, but there's something...off about it. It's hard to describe from this distance. Give me a bit more slack so I can check it out."

As Dune trudged forward through the thick sediment, he could discern a vast range of jutting spires resting in a wide arc that nearly encircled the entire space illuminated by his light. He scanned back and forth to see the shapes more clearly, and all he could make out was a long chain of large crags, not quite mountain-sized, but still massive. There was a strange beauty about the perfect symmetry of the crags as they followed each other from one end of the arc to the other, the darkness hiding the place where the mountainous rubble met the sea bottom. His crystal compass of sorts told him he needed to head towards the southern end of this range.

As Dune worked his way towards what he felt was the beginning of this lonely range of miniature mountains, he was nearly knocked down by an aching throb in his temple. It had hit him like torpedo aimed straight at his mind.

"W-What was that?" Dune sputtered into his microphone.

"Is everything alright, Dune? What happened?" Alex's voice responded.

"I...I think I just received a warning shot from whatever is out here. It felt like someone sent a missile right into my mind. There were no words, but I could sense what the intent was - Stay away."

"You aren't going to turn back now are you?"

"Of course not."

Continuing on unhindered by the warning, Dune followed arch after arch until he reached his destination. The end of the mountain ranged was unremarkable in its appearance, like the rest of the range, but Dune felt danger all along its course. Anything could be waiting down here, hidden by the darkness.

Dune focused his light on the tip of the range, his inner sense guiding his motions more than his sight now. The surface of this stone was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. It was covered in markings and shades and a thick coat of sand from long accumulation, but seemed strangely smooth, without the usual cragginess of bedrock.

He inched closer to the formation, scanning for any crevasse that might hide what he so desperately sought. It had to be here. His senses were almost drowned in that feeling of being pulled apart now, like he was fighting against a gigantic magnet that was opposed to his presence. The closer he got to the source, the more his mind was repelled. It was so strong now that he almost felt like he was being pushed backwards when he stopped. Whatever was down here, it was giving everything it had to keeping him away.

"Wait - there. I see something...unusual. It must be what I was looking for. Hold on, I'm going to get closer..."

"Dune, wait a minute. Don't go any further, there's something going on up here. Dune! We're going to pull you back up _right now_! Do you hear me Dune? _Dune get-_"

There was a sudden jerk backwards, and Alex's voice cut off, his message of danger silenced. Before Dune could attempt a response, he felt a sharp pain in his back, and knew that he was no longer alone. He instinctively whirled around, ignoring the hot pain in his back and the cold rush of water into his suit. What he met was the greedy, half-mad eye of Captain Jonah Levi, drilling into him from behind his own suit.

"Captain Levi, what are you..?" Dune voiced from inside his suit, but no sound came out. Levi grinned wide, his horrible smile full of nothing but death for the man in front of him. He was only inches from Dune's face now, staring hard into the face of his enemy. Dune could see a laugh escape from Levi's mouth, but heard nothing except the roaring of water as it filled his suit and threatened to crush him before it drowned him. Levi quickly pulled back and jeered as he held up a long knife covered in blood. Dune's blood. He had pierced Dune's flesh as well as his suit, and Dune knew he was going to die if he didn't get back to the surface.

Levi held up his other hand and all hope faded from Dune's face. In it was the cord, the vital lifeline between Dune and his friends above, neatly sliced off and dangling from his hand. The laughter inside Levi's suit was maniacal now. Dune slumped down onto his knees, despair rushing in on him as fast as the water and pressure.

Sweet victory. Sorry Phantom, but this was his show now. Nobody claimed what was Jonah Levi's.

Levi knew what he wanted now. He pushed Dune to the ground without a second thought and strode towards where Dune's light had been focused before he fell. There it was. With strides far quicker than his crippled leg should make possible, he half ran, half leaped towards the outcropping of rocks. He was filled to the brim with his greed now, the power of it surging through him like a drug. The laughter continued to pour from him in uncontrollable gouts. This was it, what he had been looking for all his life. Every bone in his body told him this was the truth, he could feel the power emanating from this place even from his ship. It was calling him, pulling him to it. He knew now it was meant for him and him alone. It was _his._

He flew up to the face of the rock wall and groped at the surface, laughing all the way, blind lust guiding him now. The light from Dune's beacon was no longer shining in this direction and he only had his powerful feeling that this was _right_ to follow.

Out of the total darkness in front of him, blinding light washed over his body in one furious flash, then was gone in a sharp blink. Then it came back, and the laughter stopped. The light stayed though, and a horror beyond anything Levi had ever witnessed filled his vision.

A monstrous eye as tall as Levi took the place of the rock wall he had just been caressing. A pale glow surrounded the eye, lighting up the surroundings like a massive lighthouse beacon. The entire seabed shook and Levi fell back on his heels, the horror of what was happening forcing his mind screaming from his body. The mountains were rising from the ground, only they were no longer mountains at all. Groans and cracks filled the dark waters as the impossibly large creature unearthed itself from its bed. A terrific _thump!_ echoed across the seafloor as the creature freed its tail and smashed it against the sands. Joints creaked like falling trees as the cavernous jaws worked. A low screech filled the entire sea as the creature tested its voice for the first time in innumerable years.

The sound was maddening, and increased in pitch as the creature freed itself, like a steady grating siren. It grew in intensity and kept on growing until the very water shook with its fury. Levi could feel his spirit being crushed under the sheer mindless rage pouring from the creature. The terrible sound had brought him to his senses though, and he was not giving up so easily. This nightmare would not deprive him of his treasure. Nothing could stand between him and destiny. Yes, he could still feel the lust-filled surge of power calling to him. Where was it coming from? It couldn't be coming from that THING, could it?

He must find it. It must be here, somewhere. The titanic abomination was still in front of him, the maddening eye still staring right into his soul. The jaws were wide open now and still emitting the incredible howl, but the creature was not moving. It had seen Levi, seen the face of its aggressor, its prey. It was staring him down now, trying to destroy his mind before it destroyed his body in one effortless motion.

Levi couldn't help himself and began laughing in a mindless fit. His whole body shuddered with the effort, and his mind ached and bent to the breaking point as the will power required to keep rational thought nearly escaped him. But he knew. He knew what he had to do, where he had to go. He was in a state of pure ecstasy as he stared at the beast with understanding in his crazed eye. Levi gasped as he reached forward and grabbed hold of his treasure at last.

"Mine...all mine...show me the way, my Goddess. I am yours."


	36. Maidens of the Sea, 'Rising Darkness'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.6 - Rising Darkness**

Bismark, Indie, and Alex watched Dune slip beneath the surface of the water and out of their sight. He would never have admitted it, but despite his quiet farewell, Bismark was the most worried of all of them. Only he knew just how cruel the sea could be, and how alone Dune really was down there. He said nothing, only stared with his one good eye at the slender cord that was the only connection he had to his friend.

No one topside saw Levi slink into the waters from his ship. All eyes were on Dune, just as Levi knew they would be. He would have plenty of opportunity to find Dune, and whatever else waited for him down there.

After what felt like hours of silence, Dune's voice sounded through the intercom in Alex's shaking hands.

"Testing...one, two...testing...do you read me Alex?"

He nearly dropped the device at the sound of Dune's voice, calm and assured.

"Yes Dune, we hear you. Have you found anything yet? What do you see?"

All ears were on the com now. He made it down to the bottom without incident, and none too soon. The sturdy cord had been measured for just such this excursion, but no one had guessed that the depth of Dune's dive would be almost a full mile. There was only another few hundred yards left on the wheel. Dune's mysterious instincts had better be accurate.

"...Nothing. There was nothing on the way down, and there's nothing here except sand. Almost reminds me of being back in the desert. It's certainly hot enough in this suit!"

"Keep us posted, then. If you see anything at all let us know."

"I will."

Everyone was still looking at Alex. He knew more about the mechanics of the suit and what it could stand than anyone else on board. They had been off on just how deep this dive was, though, and the pressure at such a depth would be extreme. He cleared his throat and tried his best to sound reassuring.

"There's nothing to worry about. That suit can withstand pressure much greater than anything at the bottom of the ocean, even here. Dune could be twice as deep and still feel like he was on the surface. Even if he is depressurized somehow, the suit will protect him long enough for us to haul him back up to the surface. He's fine."

Alex wasn't a fool, and neither were his friends. Dune was anything but fine as long as he was down there in an unknown world that no human had ever seen. The suit wasn't a tank, and Dune was anything but invincible.

The group continued their vigil, lengthening the cord according to the pull from Dune's movements. No one said anything after Alex's speech. After another eternity of silence, Dune's voice once more sounded over the com.

"Wait a minute...Alex, I think I see something up ahead. It looks almost like a mountain, but there's something...off about it. It's hard to describe from this distance. Give me a bit more slack so I can check it out."

Alex motioned to the two crewmen working the wheel. They grunted with effort as the large machine turned, spitting out yard after yard of cord. They knew it was a good thing Dune had found something before the cord ran out, but at the same time their anxiety was renewed as Dune got closer to the enigmatic goal of the mission.

The crew of Bismark's ship had not asked him any questions about the journey out of implicit trust of their Captain, but that didn't mean they were lacking any in curiosity. Throughout the voyage many crew members had come up to Connor, who everyone knew was Bismark's favorite, asking him what was going on, and he had very little to tell them.

"The Captain doesn't tell me anything he wouldn't tell you. Just trust him and his friends the same way they trust us." Connor was getting tired of repeating that same statement over and over. He trusted his Captain like he was his own father, but the secrecy around this mission was getting to him. Connor had kept his worries to himself during the Thanas mission, even after the disastrous ending, and he would carry out his role in much the same way this time. He trusted Captain Bismark, and that was all there was to it. He knew the others did, or they wouldn't still be here.

Connor looked from one crewman to the next, and then to Bismark and his friends. Everyone seemed so tense, and no one moreso than the Captain, as hard as he tried to hide it.

Out of the silence, Kumiro shrieked and ran to Indie's side, hugging his leg as if he had been attacked. At the same moment a quick flash of lightning lit up the sky, and a short but angry burst of thunder sounded over their heads soon afterwards. There were still no clouds in the sky.

"What was that?" Alex asked, turning to Indie.

"I don't know. I've been looking at my ATLAS non-stop, waiting for something, anything, to report, and there's been nothing." Indie said, comforting his stricken little friend.

"Dammit, that wasn't nothing Indie!" Alex almost shouted, pointing up at the cloudless sky.

"I can't explain what's going on any more than you can, so there's no use getting angry, Alex. Calm down and wait. That might have just been an isolated strike. Lightning has been known to appear without the presence of storms, you know." Indie tried his best to explain away the sudden hint of weather, but even he didn't believe it was just an isolated phenomenon. Dune's alarmed voice from the com put an end to any doubts on the subject.

"W-What was that?"

"Is everything alright, Dune? What happened?" Alex responded. This was no coincidence, whatever Indie thought.

"I...I think I just received a warning shot from whatever is out here. It felt like someone sent a missile right into my mind. There were no words, but I could sense what the intent was - Stay away."

"You aren't going to turn back now are you?"

"Of course not."

And that smug answer, the only answer a real scientist could give, was the end of the conversation. Alex lowered the com and looked at the others, now visibly scared. Kumiro was still clinging to Indie, even more frightened now that he was a moment ago.

"Well, still think that was just an isolated incident?" Alex said.

Indie didn't have time to think of a witty retort. The ship lurched to its side as a violent gust of wind struck it.

"Look at that!" was all Indie could say, pointing in the direction the wind had come from.

A large gathering of black clouds had appeared on the horizon, spiraling and billowing as it grew from nothing. Long tendrils of darkness reached out from the swirling center, lightning licking at the edges of the mass like static electricity. The storm moved towards the ship with an intelligent quickness, hungry to release its growing energies on them. Everyone gaped at the latent destruction force that they could feel sweep over them with each rush of wind.

"Just like the Thanas," was the only stunned reply Bismark would make at first, then, "Quick! Get Dune back up here. NOW!"

Just as he said this, Dune made one last cryptic remark.

""Wait - there. I see something...unusual. It must be what I was looking for. Hold on, I'm going to get closer..."

"Dune, wait a minute. Don't go any further, there's something going on up here. Dune! We're going to pull you back up _right now_! Do you hear me Dune? _Dune get back up here now! Dune!_..."

Alex kept yelling into the com, but he could get no answer from Dune. Bismark gave a frustrated yell and spun around on his wooden leg to face the rest of the crew. He charged towards the machine that connected Dune to the ship, his face contorted into a rage of worry and impatience.

"What're you lot waiting for? Get your asses in gear and haul him back up, whether he likes it or not!"

That was more than enough to snap his crew into action. They strained their muscles pulling at the wheel in an effort to get Dune back up. When the frayed end of the cord spluttered back aboard the ship's deck without Dune attached to it, Bismark let out a moan and reared back towards the edge of the ship.

"_DUNE!_" Bismark wailed at the taunting calmness of the waters as his large chest collided with the railing of the ship. He was seething with anger and sadness now, and was only inches away from falling into the water himself. The waves below were becoming increasingly agitated, as if eager for another foolish morsel to get caught in their trap.

Both Alex and Indie grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him back to the center of the ship. He fought with them every step, and they were barely able to keep him from diving into the sea after Dune.

"Calm down, Mobius!" Alex said.

"Yes, there's nothing we can do for him now." Indie continued, his voice beginning to falter.

"NO! We'll get him back, damn you! Get me another suit, anything. Just hurry up and DO something!" Bismark bellowed at his friends, not seeing them or anything else except the ominous black mass only minutes from their position.

There was nothing to be done, and everyone knew it. There was only one suit, and no way to get down to him and back up in time even if there was a second. Bismark kept struggling against his friends but his efforts were dying down as the harsh truth crept up on him. Dune was gone. He couldn't go running out into the desert to save him this time. Tears welled up in his one eye and he shut it tight to fight back his emotion. He beat his fists against his friends, and they did nothing to stop him.

"I'm sorry, Mobius," was all Alex could say as he stared at the cord's end.

"That damn fool of a scientist! Damn him! He should've known..._we _should have known better. What good are old men like us if we can't foresee these kinds of things?" Bismark yelled, still trying to come to grips with what happened. Alex and Indie just nodded in sad agreement.

There was little time for remorse as the waves churned and bubbled, growing now into dangerous walls of water. The storm was just about on them, and it seemed to be holding back its full force until they were right underneath it. Even in his grief Bismark knew the power this storm was sure to have, just as he measured the storm in the Thanas. No...this _was_ the storm from the Thanas. He had seen a great many storms in his lifetime and knew their make and measure as surely as an old lover. There was no mistaking this monstrous shape. It had come back to finish the job it had started. Bismark would fight it this time, not run back inside like a coward. He would meet this storm and show it who was the true master of the seas. For Dune.

"I'm ready for you this time. Come on, you bastard."

Bismark stopped struggling to let his friends know he had come to his senses. As soon as they let go, he leaped up and raced to the main mast. Alex and Indie looked at each other, and then at Bismark, bewildered.

"I'll show you who is the captain of this ship!" he cried as he climbed up to the top of the mast with surprising grace. He perched himself in the bird's nest and laughed like a madman.

"C'mon! I'm here for you, Master of Storms. Show me your power and let me teach you what it means to be a man of the sea. Hah!" Bismark yelled out at the encroaching black mass, ignorant of the frantic pleas to come back from below. He was in pure ecstasy as he became one with his element.

"He's mad!" Alex and Indie both cried.

"We have to do something, or the Captain will get ripped apart by the storm!" Connor pleaded with Bismark's friends. He had seen the Captain react to storms with a passionate glee before, but never like this. He was afraid the loss of his friend and the almost mocking nature of the storm had finally pushed him over that fine line of sanity that he always seemed to enjoy walking.

The storm responded to Bismark's calls and swept over the ship with no remorse. Within moments the decks were covered in buckets of water and deadly chunks of hail soon began assaulting the helpless crew as they scrambled for cover. The entire sky was filled with the blackness of the storm as it let out its anger. Only the relentless lashes of lightning lit up the terrified faces of the men caught in the storm. Bismark just laughed and stood his ground.

Lightning flew around the ship like wild blinding banshees, echoes of thunder shaking the ship in a never-ending rumble. The ship lurched drunkenly in all directions as the storm batted at it like a cat with a terrified mouse. This time, the storm would destroy the ship, and Bismark. There would be no steel sanctuary like before. Those who chose to defy the gods twice were fools indeed, and a fools fate they received. And this king of fools perched on his throne would be the first.

Levi's ship was caught in a similar predicament. Their captain had abandoned them for the treasure below, and now they were clamped between the jaws of the storm along with the Maiden of the Sea. There was more than enough rage here for both ships, and the storm did not spare the Golden Goddess a single drop of rain.

The crew members of Levi's ship ran back and forth, vainly attempting to regain control of the ship. Levi's ship was the heavier one, and seemed to be holding its own despite the storm's barrage. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief as things appeared to be under a semblance of control.

A mind-bending howl from below the surface sent everyone on both ships to their knees even as they struggled with the storm. Not even the constant thunder could match the primordial fury of this new sound. The howl did not fade, but continued to rise and rise from the ocean in a crescendoing spiral. A large group of waves attacked both ships from a concentrated point just beyond them as a massive whirlpool formed and began slowly pulling the two ships around it. At the center of the chasm of water was Levi's cord, barely visible and still connected to the Golden Goddess. Something was going on below the waves, and it looked like it was as fierce a struggle as what was going on above.

The howl increased to a fever pitch, causing many crew members to put their hands to their ears. It shot up another octave and then cut out with one last broken scream. Even the storm stopped for a brief moment in anticipation, wondering what had happened to its last and most deadly surprise, and then the sea spilled forth and both ships were nearly lost in the overflow of water. As the Maiden of the Sea was pushed back, Levi's ship sprang to life and was pulled forward, through the army of waves, helpless to steer away from the yawning mouth before it. As it careened towards the center, it lifted up out of the water as the cord connecting it to Levi went taut and then broke with a loud _snap!_, then went whipping away into the chaos that was the center of the whirlpool. The ship hit the water with an ugly crashing sound, but remained afloat. Eager not to be outdone, the storm renewed its attack with even more force than before.

Levi's cord trailed through the water like a living snake, and soon found its master. The great beast that had slept at the bottom of the Mordic for untold ages erupted right into the middle of the storm, and Levi was right there with it, refusing to let go of his deadly prize. He hung onto one of the thick strands of greenish skin that dangled from the creature's long narrow mouth like misshapen jowls, laughing even as the creature wrenched its mammoth head back and forth, high above the waves. More and more of the beast's sleek serpentine body rose and fell from the waters as a continuous stream of arches, spines, and fins undulated upwards from the depths in an eerie rhythmic pattern.

The monstrous tail of the beast flew out of the water as it lashed back and forth in anger. A sudden shriek of pain erupted from it as Levi mounted its great glowing eye and stabbed it with his knife. The eye gushed huge torrents of yellowish jelly and went dark. Levi scrambled onto the creature's head and began assaulting it as best he could with so feeble a weapon. He continued laughing even as his knife clinked ineffectually against the thick hide.

Far below, Levi's crew stared in slack-jawed wonder at their captain. No one even thought of trying to rescue him. They were too concerned with getting the hell away from this nightmare as fast as humanly possible, their captain be damned.

The creature lowered its head in pain to the point where Levi was now very close to his own ship, and even more to the surprise of the Golden Goddess's crew, he was actually yelling out commands to them. Even now, when he was as sure a dead man as any they had ever seen, he still felt he could order them around like slaves! But the fear he had instilled in them was formidable, and seeing him riding this impossible beast of legend that must be from some watery pit of hell beyond their worst visions, none dared to go against him. Through pure fear, they were his.

"Attack! Attack you ingrates! Give this demon everything my Goddess has! Hear my words! I am Captain and you will follow my orders to your death. _ATTACK!"_

The monster seemed to understand Levi's insane words just as well as his crew, and let out a sharp roar of intense indignation. It turned its injured eye away from the ship and narrowed what was left of its yellow, heartless stare on the poor crew members of the Golden Goddess, already scrambling with panicked haste to obey their Captain's orders as best they could despite the raging storm.

From the Maiden of the Sea, Alex and Indie huddled beneath the main mast of the ship wordless and dumbfounded. They had never seen anything like what was going on before them. Bismark had something to say, however, and yelled with unbridled glee towards both at the creature and into the storm. Lightning flashed in front of his face, highlighting a haunting look of victory and defiance. Blood trickled down his forehead where he had been struck by hailstones, but he didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered except the storm and the creature now. He was caught in its embrace and would dominate it.

"By the Gods, it seems all the old tales of the sea are coming to life before my very eyes today!" Bismark screamed from his throne, his voice heard by all on the deck. "Man the harpoons! Shift course towards that monster. She's a legend and a half right there. This storm won't stop me from witnessing the great Queen of the Sea destroy the great traitor of the sea! And then I'll take her myself for slaying my friend. Hah! Dune if only you could see this! I'll make sure your death becomes one of the greatest tales the sea has ever spawned! Forward! Let the great Latimeria know we're here! _ATTACK!"_

Bismark's crew listened to their surely insane captain, even though they knew they were heading straight towards their death. They were afraid, but it was not the fear of their captain that drove them forward. They still trusted him, and knew this day had gone beyond any of their abilities to understand. Whatever orders he gave now they would follow, because he was their Captain.


	37. Maidens of the Sea, 'Shore of Oblivion'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.7 - Shore of Oblivion**

"_Duuuuuune..."_

That voice...

"_Dune. Wake up, Dune."_

A sweet voice trickled across Dune's senses, bringing him back into a world of light and warmth.

"Who...?"

A soft but forceful swish of peaceful waves washed across Dune's mind, silencing him and putting him at complete ease despite his growing concerns of where he was and what was going on.

Feeling like there was nothing at all to be afraid of here, Dune opened his eyes like a dreamer waking from some deep nightmare. He saw what he thought was the Mordic at first, but realized he must be mistaken. This was no vision of sterile, somber beauty. This place was lush, _alive._

He was lying on a beach, the clean blue waters of a limitless ocean lapping at his heels in a gentle caress. Behind him stood a vibrant jungle of fronds and grasses, as tall as trees, and as bright green as emeralds. The beach itself was filled with bright white sand, with blades of rich foliage poking up here and there where the tides allowed. An enormous seagull cawed a greeting to him from the cloudless skies, circling him as if it were waiting just for him to awaken. Small crabs danced at his feet, waving and clacking their claws at him as if to just say "hello" to their new friend. The friendliness here was infectious, and Dune soon found himself smiling as he waved back at the little crabs.

A cool breeze blew up from the waters and washed over Dune, filling his lungs with an invigorating dose of salty sea air. He gulped it down like water and got to his knees, feeling more alive here than he had anywhere in his entire life. He stayed on his knees, staring out into the hypnotic waves as if in a trance. Dune had a whole new appreciation for the beauty Bismark saw in the wide open seas.

_Am I dead? Is this..._

"No...and yes."

Dune spun around as the sound of a woman's voice behind him answered his thoughts. But there was no one. He had heard that voice somewhere before.

"There is nothing to fear here. That is all you need to know."

Dune now turned back towards the ocean, and thought he saw a shimmering shape hovering over the waves. He tried to focus his vision, but whatever was there had vanished in a playful giggle.

"My dear child of the sands, you have been through so much, and yet this is still only the beginning for you. Will you stand?"

Dune attempted to stand, but fell back, a terrible twisting pain in his back keeping him down on his knees.

"My poor child! I weep for your pain..."

A warm breeze swept over Dune, and a gentle sea rain fell around him. Dune licked his lips and tasted the slight tang of salt in the drops of rain.

"The Tears of Elia. Drink, and be healed of your sorrows."

Dune complied, and did his best to collect the precious drops in his cupped hands. He looked at the sparkling liquid in his palms, then drained it. The water flowed through him working its miraculous powers on both his mind and body. He felt a sharp tug at his insides where the knife had pierced him, as if the water was pulling the injured flesh together. He felt the water work its way into his mind, and then felt a horrible sensation of being torn in two, like before, at the bottom of the Mordic.

"I am sorry Dune. Some wounds are too deep, even for my powers." The voice was full of genuine sorrow, and almost made Dune weep himself. He knew what wound that was.

"Doom," Dune replied in a cold, dead voice.

"It's a horrible affair, isn't it? We, brothers and sisters born of purity and innocence, now infected with the very prejudices we sought to destroy..."

Dune listened to the voice, not fully understanding her, but being soothed by the sweet sadness of its sound.

"Let this be a lesson, child. There is no escaping the Balance. We are all part of it, from the smallest grain of sand to the mightiest force of nature."

The voice paused, and Dune ventured a question, wondering what right he had, but knowing he must try, he must know.

"Who are you?"

"I am the smallest ripple of the smallest pond and the highest wave in the vastness of all the seas. I am the quiet summer's rain in the deepest forest and the mighty roar of the tallest falls. I am sorrow and joy, a fundamental part of all life. I am the Maiden of Water.

"Elia?" Dune whispered, humbled by the myth made real.

"A name. You may call me it if you like. I have many others."

"I..."

A soft laugh, as rich and pure as the water he had drank, tickled his senses.

"You don't believe," the voice said not unkindly, "Faith is a powerful force, Dune. Someday you will realize having faith means more than believing in magic and silly stories."

Dune did not understand, but something inside him told him every word this voice spoke was true. He must find out what it all meant, a voice inside him pushed him further. The relentless voice of reason.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Believe. Not in me, not in magic." The voice spoke with a touch of urgency.

"What then? Tell me!"

"Just believe, Dune. You will find your faith. You must."

All the riddles and questions were enough for Dune. Why couldn't someone tell him what was happening? Why wouldn't anyone tell him_ anything?_

"Why not! What must I do to get the answers to my questions? I'm tired of wandering blind in the dark. Do you hear me? I'm sick of it! Tell me, now! I demand to know!"

A swirl of colors blurred Dune's vision, smearing the paradisial image of the beach into a rainbow of bright blues and whites and greens. Then the swirl darkened, darkened until the only hue left was a cold blue. Not the rich living blue of Elia's beach, but the dead paleness of a frozen corpse. The colors of Doom.

"_Believe..."_

And then the warmth was gone from Dune's eyes, and his soul.

There was no struggling with the powerful entity clawing at him, dragging him down further and further. He was trapped once again in the cold prison of Cocytus.

"Ah, my emissary. You look well. I shall have to do something about that. Come to me, child."

Before Dune could speak a word of defiance, he was thrust before the towering form of his dark master. The look of smugness oozing from the hideous deathmask that was the remnants of Doom's face increased as Dune was brought within a few feet of it. The blue mass of stinking flesh filled Dune's vision, choking out any will to resist. What might have been a smile worked its way out from the mass of scarred tissue in the center. Dune hated this being, and hated himself for being so easily drawn into its clutches again.

"Yessssss..." the voice rasped from somewhere deep inside Dune's mind, "Hate me. Hate yourself. Let it consume you. I will be watching, and savoring your hatred."

Dune closed his eyes tight to block out the face of death in front of him, but there was no blocking the ripe stench of rotting flesh pouring from the pile of filth he had only glimpsed from below before. He gulped hard and pushed out his words, fighting for each breath as he did. He would stand his ground.

"You don't own me. Nobody owns me. I am my own Master. I felt it, just a little while ago."

Dune paused, catching his breath, careful not to take in too much at once, or the reek of decay would defeat him. Doom remained silent, but his pride and arrogance flowed forth in a commanding answer to each of his words, filling Dune with more and more hate for this place and this _thing_.

"I subdued it. The crystal tried to control me and I fought. And won." Dune smiled as best he could, but the arrogance still flowed over him, untainted by Dune's own.

"It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game, my pawn. And you are playing MY game. Don't forget it!"

The face exhaled a fierce breath full against Dune, sending him headlong into the dark abyss of his own mind. The smell of death was almost too much as it sank into his skin, infecting him, violating him. He couldn't take the feeling of desecration invading his soul and cried out. He cried out for Mae. He cried out for his Captain, for Elia. Anyone who would listen.

But the only answer was Doom's taunting voice, echoing off the walls of oblivion that suffocated him.

"Remember who your Master is, my child. Oh, and do say hello to my brother of the long breath. I hear he is quite enjoying himself at the moment. Hahahahaha..."

The laugh pierced Dune's mind like a frozen shard of pure spite, and he went numb, mindless and bodiless.

After an eternity of darkness, Dune woke with a violent start, his body forcing him to realize where he was before his mind could catch up. Instincts surged and Dune flailed his arms and coughed up bitter water. He was alive, but by no means out of the water yet.

Dune gasped as he took what might have been the first breath of his entire life, and then looked around with wild, animal-like eyes. He was back above the surface of the water, but something was not right. There was no light, and a horrible roaring sound was filling the waters all around him. It was the roar of some unimaginable beast in pain, or perhaps that was just Dune's overwrought imagination as he tried to make sense of the sights and sounds battering his senses. He didn't have time to wonder what world he had be tossed into now. He still wore his heavy suit, and with the grace of a frightened deer pulled it off as he struggled to keep afloat in the windswept waters.

There was a storm raging now, and not just any storm. One glance up above at the black sky and grasping tendrils and he knew this was the storm from the Thanas, the storm from his worst nightmares. As if sensing the newest arrival to its frenzy, the storm swirled tightly and a magnificent spiral of dense greyness twisted its way down from the sky, threatening to suck Dune up into the storm's hungry maw and devour him at last. The defier had returned, and vengeful judgement was in every curl of the storm's features.

Dune swam for all he was worth - anywhere, nowhere. Where could he go? Where was the Maiden of the Sea? Even the Golden Goddess's bright gaudiness would be a relief beyond words. But there was nothing but the storm, and it had seen Dune and now reached out for him to snatch him up.

"_Eliaaaaa!"_

It was all Dune could think of to say. The storm seemed to wince at the name, the fingering spiral extending from it coming to an abrupt stop only a few dozen yards away from Dune's helpless form. The waterspout soon started up again, filled with some new purpose as it swarmed over top Dune despite his most vigorous attempts to escape. Dune let out a low defeated moan as the storm plucked him out of the water and sent him cascading up into the heart of the hated storm. This was surely the end for Dune. The storm had won after all. He closed his eyes and waited for the gales to slice him to ribbons and scatter his remains to the farthest reaches of the seas.


	38. Maidens of the Sea, 'Queen of the Seas'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.8 - Queen of the Seas**

Bismark's ship cut through the waves towards the ensuing struggle like a hawk diving for its prey. Alex's powerful engine roared with the storm as it sucked in sea water to propel the ship against the whirling waters born from Latimeria's rising. Alex himself had regained his composure and now did his best to carry out the orders his captain flung from the bird's nest far above. The sails were lowered, harpoons readied, and the engine kept alive in orderly, well-rehearsed motions, as if this were a perfectly expected course of action. That Bismark was still capable of giving out orders in such a steady, sane stream, even as he laughed and jeered at the raging storm, was nothing new to his crew.

The Maiden of the Sea was a fearsome sight as it plowed through the water towards its target, but even moreso was the battle happening between the Golden Goddess and the great Queen of the Seas. Levi's orders poured from atop the beast's head, almost drowned out by its cries of pain and anger. His crew followed them as quickly and efficiently as Bismark's but they were fighting for their life, and Levi's voice, as crazed and hated as it was, was the only semblance of order still left to them. So they listened.

"Fire the cannons! Launch the harpoons! Get off your asses and defend your Captain, damn you!"

Levi's crew obliged as best they could, pelting the twisting sides of the creature with as much firepower as they could while still trying to maintain balance and control against the storm. The cannonballs hit their mark with sickening thuds that surely caused great pain, but could not pierce the thick hide and do any serious injury. The harpoons, long lethal anchors of sharpened mythril, cut cleanly through the beast's flesh, embedding themselves deep and bringing forth gouts of blue-black blood that stained the seas surrounding the battle. Long thick chains hung from each harpoon, connecting the ship to the beast.

The Queen of the Seas was not content to just writhe in agony like a caught fish. She did her best to shake off the ridiculous creature that dared to mount her like some common beast, but he held on by some strange surge of power that she could not have guessed such puny creatures possessed. She raised her head out of earshot of the ship and bellowed her frustration to all the seas, the powerful blasts of constant thunder answering her every cry. Levi still held on with all his might, and continued his fruitless assault on Latimeria's armor-like skull.

He was just a minor annoyance compared to the vessel circling her, caught in the whirlpool. The heavy cannonballs hurt, but it was the sharp harpoons that goaded Latimeria into thoughtless frenzy. She pulled and pushed away from the ship in an effort to dislodge the barbs, but only succeeded in bringing the ship closer and closer. The turning waters flung the ship around her in a deadly dance, causing the chains to wrap themselves around her neck in an ever-increasing stranglehold. She wailed with pain, her voice strained by the chains around her throat. Latimeria and the Golden Goddess were hopelessly entangled, and soon one or the other would be destroyed.

The Maiden of the Sea dived forward into the fray but kept a careful distance, waiting to get a clean shot at the beast before it knew of a second ship. When the creature pulled away from the Golden Goddess, Bismark saw his chance. Latimeria's massive body surged up into view and nearly collided with the unknown new arrival before sharply changing direction in a whim. Bismark gave the order, and a single well-aimed harpoon shot from the sides of the ship and sailed through the rain and hail, catching Latimeria completely by surprise as it embedded itself into the side of her head.

Had the shot been fired a few feet higher, Bismark would have killed two enemies with one shot; Levi jumped with surprise as he felt the shock of the harpoon's strike right below him. He lost his precarious grip and tumbled backwards as the creature arched skyward in mortal agony. As he fell he reached out to grab the haft of the harpoon and caught it, nearly dislocating his arm from his shoulder with the exertion. He gripped the harpoon as tightly as he had held onto Latimeria, slicing at the open wound with his knife, hoping to hit some vital nerve or tendon. Every fragment of sanity still left to Levi now centered on felling this beast. It must die, he must claim what was his. The seductive force that had drawn him here willed him further, lending him strength he had only dreamed of, even in his long gone youth. _This_ was power, and no one would ever take it from him.

Latimeria was mad with its injuries and flailing about, not seeing anything but pain. Had it still been able to see with its right eye, Bismark's ship would have been spotted and possibly rammed before it could attack. That eye was dark now, and Latimeria saw nothing but the blurred image of the Golden Goddess on its left side when the lethal dart impaled itself into the other side of her face. She attempted a moan of pain, but the ever tightening chains choked off any more sound from the dying creature.

Both ships were now entwined with the beast, one on each side. Oncoming death gave her one last burst of energy and the dying Queen whipped her entire body around in fierce desperation, sending the ships hurtling out of control towards the center of the embrace that spelled the mutual destruction of all three combatants. The two ships came only inches away from crashing against each other many times as they flew around Latimeria's trunk. The two crews caught brief glimpses during lightning flashes of the haggard looks of pure terror on each other's faces. No one noticed the shadowy form that leaped with ghostly ease from the Golden Goddess onto the Maiden of the Sea during one of the near misses.

Levi's crew attempted to free themselves from the harpoons when they saw what was coming, but Levi's harsh, ravaged voice echoed from Latimeria's side, seeming to come from the creature herself.

"Don't you dare let this prize go! I'll flay every last one of you if she gets away, dead or alive! This is my prize, my destiny, my Goddess, and my wrath if you fail! Hold, damn it all, _hold!"_

To their credit and folly, Levi's crew listened one final time, an endless abyss in all their eyes as they saw death rise up to greet them. The shade of their destruction was a vile green as deep as the seas themselves.

The Golden Goddess was the first to collide with Latimeria's side as she twisted and spiraled to her death. It spun around her one last time at terrific speed, then smashed against her rigid body. Even the sturdy sides of Levi's ship could not withstand such an impact, and with a creaking gasp it shattered like a glass bottle. Crew leaped from the ship like fleeing rats, all to be consumed by the stormy waters below. The storm had not let up since the attack, and the waters rose up and swallowed any unfortunate sailors caught in the madness.

The topmast snapped clean off the ship upon impact and fell into the waters whole and intact. One lone crew member still hung to the sides of the bird's nest as it floated, her cries for help lost to mortal ears in the chaos of storm, sea, and serpent. There was no one to hear her, but she cried for mercy all the same, praying for forgiveness to the patron her own captain had forbidden all on board to speak of in anything but scorn. She thought she saw a glint of sunlight before she lost her strength and slipped between the dark waves with the rest of her crew. It was too late for forgiveness now though, she thought. She knew she would pay for her service to this murderer with her life and wept with regret as she sank deeper.

As Levi's vessel sank, Latimeria spun around in a final elegant death plunge before falling backwards into the seas with a terrific crash, the hapless Maiden still tethered to her. The ship raced forward as the quickening waters sucked her down with Latimeria's thrashing body. It seemed Bismark's madness would force the Maiden into the same fate as the Golden Goddess. Even as the stunned crew of the Maiden watched their sister ship splinter and fall beneath the waves, he gave no order to withdraw the harpoon and escape. It wasn't until Dune dropped almost into his arms that he realized the position he had put his ship in.

Bismark's stream of orders cut off mid-sentence as the storm twisted in a single violent burst of wind and the skies appeared directly above his head, showing for a brief instant sunlight that had all but been forgotten. Bismark knew this was the eye of the storm, an area of relative peace at the core of a swirling storm. Those who glimpsed it were said to be blessed by Elia. What he did not know was that Dune had been swept up into it, and now fell right into the bird's nest in an unceremonious heap.

There were no words between them. Both men stared at each other in shock, then relief as tears welled up in both men's eyes. A violent lurch to the side broke the silence, and Bismark looked out over the waters and saw his ship careening towards Latimeria, his harpoon stuck high on its form with Levi right on top of it. He came to his senses not a moment too soon, and ordered the weapon let loose from the ship and a full reverse away from the horrific scene. Bismark gave one last glance at the beast and his hated rival and gave a curt wave, a chilling grin spread wide on his face. Dune would never forget that look for as long as he lived. It was a look of death.

Levi still struggled to maintain his grip on both the harpoon and the wretched beast he knew was only moments away from death. The blood that had been spurting from the wound and covering Levi from head to toe before now only oozed out in a weak trickle soon washed away by the rains and wind. He stopped his assault and cried out in triumph. He had won, and the gift from the Goddess was his for the taking. He wouldn't give up now, or ever, not when he was this close.

His victory was a short-lived one as the end of the harpoon that had been attached to Bismark's ship came hurtling into his field of vision. He let out a strangled cry and scurried for cover, but to no avail. The thick chain missed him at first, but the violent death throes of the poor Latimeria wrapped the whipping chain about its body, flattening Levi against its sides as it caught at his good leg, then his knife arm, forcing it from his hand for the first time since he had unsheathed it to attack Dune. His knife arm hung upright, pinioned at the shoulder and appearing to wave as he and the creature turned together.

Levi heaved his body forward in a vain attempt to extricate himself from the binds that trapped him, but it did no good. He got one last glimpse at the fleeing Maiden and cursed its name, spitting into the ocean that rose up to swallow him and his prize. With one last jeering glance full of denial and seething hatred, Levi sank into the abyss. His still waving arm, now clenched in a shaking blood-soaked fist, dipped below the waters as the rest of the now dead beast sank to the bottom of the ocean.

No one ever saw Jonah Levi alive again.


	39. Maidens of the Sea, 'After the Storm'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.9 - After the Storm**

"Don't pity him, Dune."

Bismark walked with Dune along the length of the Maiden, his voice as calm as the waves around the ship. Whatever trace of a storm there might have been was now at the bottom of the Mordic. By the blessing of Elia, or so the crew claimed, Bismark and his ship had been allowed to limp away from the disastrous scene of the Golden Goddess's demise. Now they were slowly getting things back to normal and preparing to return to Narsille, empty-handed once again.

"I know what you're thinking Dune," Bismark said in that same calm voice. "You think that no man should die the way Levi did, and I'm a monster for savoring it."

Dune said nothing, but merely followed his Captain in quiet contemplation of his own adventure.

"Well you're wrong. Simple as that. Levi was the worst example of what greed could do to a man, and this world is better now that he's rotting at the bottom of the seas. No one will miss him."

Bismark said these things to Dune, but also to himself. A part of him needed to feel justified for the intense hatred he felt towards the man. While Levi was alive, Bismark could let his hate flow without remorse or conscience. The bastard was still alive and laughing, after all. Now that he was dead, Bismark couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt that he had not only been indirectly responsible for his death, but had thoroughly enjoyed it. Bismark was at peace after thirty years of vengeful rivalry, but what had that peace cost him?

Dune only spared minimal thought to Levi's end. He was more concerned with his own fate, and what the so-called Maiden of Water had told him, as well as the accursed Doom. It seemed he was supposed to be doing something, seeing something, but he was as lost now as he ever was. He knew what he had seen, he knew it was more than dreams and visions that were plaguing him from one end of the world to the other. He didn't _believe_ in the visions though. There was still an explanation out there, and it was his purpose to find out what it was. This is what he believed for now. Only then, only when things made sense, only when things conformed to his way of thinking, could he believe. But believe in what?

The thoughts of both men were interrupted by shouts coming from a knot of crewmen huddled around a miserable looking pile of dripping wet rags. The pile shivered and sputtered, and was swiftly kicked by a nearby foot.

"We found her clinging to the ship's side after the storm!"

"She must be one of Levi's! Kill her!"

"Get the Captain, he'll show no mercy!"

"Stop that at once!" A powerful voice cut through the throng of sailors like a knife, silencing all but the whimpering mass at the center. A form brimming with confidence and justice strode through the mass of angry sailors, no one daring to stand in the way. Gentle hands reached out to the mass on the floor, lifting it up for everyone to see. Compassionate eyes peered into terrified ones, melting away years of suffering as the two connected. For the first time in her short but painful life, this wretched excuse for a woman saw kindness and hope, and nearly fainted with the overwhelming relief of it all. Her nightmare was over at last, thank Elia.

"What is your name, miss? Mine is Alex Figaro, and you are safe here." Alex gave a cold glance to each and every sailor around them, and more than one wilted further back into the crowd, ashamed.

"K-K-Kite...sir." The girl managed to splutter once she had regained her power of speech.

"Kite? Just Kite?"

"Just...Kite."

"Well then, welcome aboard Kite! Shall I show you to your room? I bet you could use a good long rest."

Shock and gratitude erupted on her face, a pretty one, now that the dogged look of a hunted animal was gone from it. "Yes, sir. I would like that very much."

"Please, call me Alex."

With that, the two of them walked out of the crowd of confused sailors. No one sneered or taunted her now, and no one would again. A friend of Alex was a friend of the Captain, and a friend of his was considered royalty to his crew. Kite had gone from rags to riches in the span of a few short moments.

"That's Alex for you. Always the gentleman for a pretty girl." Bismark smirked, but he was glad no harm had come to the ship's newest arrival. She would be able to tell him much about the man he had hated so much for so long. Besides, whatever qualms he had with her former Captain, he had no agenda with his crew. Bismark was the type of man who judged each person he met face-to-face, and would soon be the judge of whether this woman could be trusted to stay on his vessel. For now, Alex trusted her, and that was good enough for him.

Things were quickly getting back under control as the ship made its way back to friendlier waters. The crew had already begun conversing with themselves about the events of only a few hours ago, events that seemed a part of another life time to many of them. They joked about the incredible scenes, wondering if anyone would even believe half of what they had been witness to. Despite the narrow escape from those dark waters, the crew of the Maiden was now in high spirits.

As the hours passed and the sun once again set on the waters of the Mordic, now behind the ship, a subdued figure stood against the railing along the stern and looked back. Dune was still trying to figure out how he should make sense of what had happened to him. He could see the waves now, pushed in a lazy procession by winds that may not have blown across these waters for centuries for all he knew. Soon birds would begin to follow the winds, and life would once again come to the Mordic.

_Just like the Thanas..._

This entire trip had been almost exactly like the Thanas expedition, right down to the fruitless ending. And yet Dune _had_ secretly found what he was supposed to find last time, hadn't he? Not this time, though. Whatever he was destined to find here, it had eluded him.

_I guess even a God can be wrong, eh?_

Dune admired the blood-red waters slowly fading to a dark blue-black as the sun dipped below the horizon. As soon as the first stars began to twinkle overhead, Dune felt a sharp prick in his back. He spun around instantly, familiar terror filling his veins. Half-expecting to see Levi's grotesque visage staring at him once more, he was surprised to see nothing at all. Or so he thought.

"Don't move. Don't speak." A clear and chilling voice commanded him from the shadows only inches away from where Dune stood.

"Who...?" But Dune didn't have time to finish his question. Dune saw the glint of starlight reflected in front of him for only a split second before the knife was at his throat and the voice rasping in his ear.

"Say one more word and you die."

Dune nodded as best he could, the knife's edge pressing firmly against his neck as he did. Dune could see nothing and heard nothing except the voice, but he sensed a strange familiarity with his invisible assailant. The crystal pulsed fiercely inside his shirt, filling him with an icy dread he knew only too well. He fought the urge to grab at the crystal.

_Just like the Thanas indeed._

"I will take the gravity crystal Mr. Karn, and this time no one will stop me."

At the mention of his secret, the crystal flared to life, ready to defend itself once more. A hand cloaked in darkness reached towards the glowing object with swift precision, hovered over the pocket containing the crystal, then drew back. Dune felt the knife dig deeper into his flesh, but no other movements came from the man behind him. After a tense silence, Dune felt a hot breath on his ear.

"Where is it? Tell me!" The voice spat with impatience.

Now Dune was at a loss for words. Surely he had seen the glow of the crystal? The man seemed to have no trouble finding it last time, either. Had the crystal somehow protected itself from detection? The knife-hand gave a sharp tug, and Dune gasped for air.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Liar! Where is it? The signs confirm it, the final gravity crystal has been claimed. Now tell me what you did with it, or you'll never see land again!"

But he _hadn't_ found anything this time. Ironic that he was telling the truth this time, and the man didn't believe him. Dune tried his best to remain calm, but he knew that unless he did something, he was a dead man for sure.

"I'm telling you the truth. I found nothing. Levi attacked me and I blacked out, and then I wound up here. If there was something down there, I didn't see it."

Dune heard nothing and saw nothing, but he was sure he felt a smile on the lips that were almost pressed to his ear.

"It's too bad you're not cooperating, but I have my orders. I'm afraid this is where we say good-bye, Mr. Karn. I'm sure your body will give up more than your lips have."

The knife was already pressed against the skin hard enough to draw blood, and Dune's neck muscles tensed in expectation of the mortal cut he knew was coming.

_Your life belongs to me and only me, Dune. _I _am your Doom_.

Dune heard the words of Doom echo in his head, and felt a surge of cold energy fill him. He felt like he was expanding, pushing the knife and its owner away from him, further and further. The blue aura grew and for a moment Dune cold see the black outline of his attacker against the bright glow of the crystal as he staggered back in surprise. But the shock lasted only for a moment. The man quickly vanished over the side of the ship before he could be consumed by the demonic energy he had unwittingly unleashed. Seeming satisfied, the aura abated and Dune was forced into unconsciousness yet again.

Below, the shadowy figure was clinging to the side of the ship, cursing his bad luck. Foolish Phantom...you knew the power of the crystal, but you were desperate and careless. Sade will not be pleased. Now all three crystals were claimed and his job was over, with nothing to show for it. He had failed Sade twice. If he went back now, empty-handed, Sade would burn him to ashes without question. Returning now would be suicide. Even attempting to contact Sade would mean his certain death. Sade had ways of finding his victims no matter where they hid. Phantom was on his own now, just like he had always been before all this.

But what had happened to the final crystal? It _had_ been claimed, of this Phantom was sure. If the archeologist was telling the truth, then the crystal was still out there, and with it a chance to save his worthless life. If he found it in time, before it took hold, he could still secure it. This mission had long since lost any enjoyment for Agent Phantom. Now he was working purely for his own survival, and he hated Sade for trapping him like this. His own greed had tempted him into an impossible situation, and there was only one way out now. If he was right, and he was able to claim the crystal for himself, he may be able to exact his revenge on the man who had used him. Phantom was more than one of Sade's mindless followers, and he would prove it, one way or another. He would survive, as he always had. Looking around the side of the ship, he knew there was only one thing left to do.

In the morning several members of the crew awoke to find a missing life boat and a very dazed and confused Dune lying on deck. After a brief conversation it became apparent that the unknown intruder from the Figaro had struck again.


	40. Maidens of the Sea, 'The Golden Goddess'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea**

* * *

**Part 5.10 - The Golden Goddess**

"Arise, servant of the Goddess."

Levi opened his eyes.

The sight that met his gaze was like something out of a fairy tale. _His_ fairy tale. He gave an audible gasp that resounded through the shimmering halls he found himself in. Gold. Everything was gold.

"Welcome," a deeply sonorous female voice echoed, "to the endless halls of Pandemonium." The voice seemed to come from high above him, but at the same time he could feel the voice resonate inside his mind.

_Endless halls...of gold? Where am I?_

Levi struggled to stand, his wooden leg hampering him in his haste to get a better look at his new surroundings. The pale glow that seemed to flow from the gold itself was blinding. There were no lights, no torches, no windows - indeed, as Levi got a better look, there was no exit or entrance of any kind within sight. Levi was standing in the middle of a vast hallway that looked like an entrance hall, but with no entrance. Where a massive gate might have been, there was nothing but a solid gold wall, covered in ornate carvings of women, all beautiful beyond description. No, as he looked closer Levi could see they were in fact all the same woman. The Goddess.

The room itself was vast, easily large enough to hold his own Golden Goddess, as well as Bismark's ship. He stood on a wide open space at the foot of a grand staircase that climbed up several flights then stopped in front of another hallway that lead off out of sight. The staircase was almost as wide as the room itself, and Levi wondered how many hundreds of men could climb these stairs at a time. Finely crafted banisters lined either side of the staircase, with small statuettes of the Goddess fixed to the ends at the top and bottom. Carvings of the Goddess adorned the high walls and ceiling, with golden statues of Her punctuating the empty space of the floor. Everywhere Levi looked he saw two things - Gold and the Goddess.

The only thing not gold in this place seemed to be the crimson red carpet that led from where he stood straight up the stairs and down the unknown hallway beyond. On the carpet was a disturbing series of images. Depictions of bloody battle between countless scores of warriors flowed from the carpet, all done with such exquisite detail that the men seemed ready to hack off Levi's remaining leg if he tried stepping on them. The battle seemed to have a progression to it as it made its way up the stairs and down the hall, as if it were telling the story of some epic war. At the very beginning of the carpet, where Levi now stood, was an immaculate image of the Goddess. Directly in front of it, a few feet ahead of Levi, were scenes of worship, and then shortly afterwards the battle scenes began, and kept going as far as Levi could see, growing more gruesome as they went. He couldn't help but admire his host's taste.

Now that Levi had a bearing on where he was, a more pertinent question forced its way into his mind.

"Am I dead?" Levi spoke into the silent halls. Surely he must be after what he had just been through.

"You are here. That is all you need to know."

Not the answer Levi wanted to hear. "Well where am I, then? What is this place?"

Silence. Then, "All paths lead to the Goddess in this place. The Fall of Man shall be your guide - the answers you seek are at its end."

Levi gave a frustrated look around the room as he muddled over the words. He didn't have time for games, and wasn't in any mood to play them. Something about this place filled him with a deep longing, however, and he felt compelled to listen to every word his host spoke.

Glancing at the carpet again, Levi saw what he was supposed to do. The scenes on the carpet could only be the "Fall of Man" the voice spoke of. He hobbled along the carpet's length, then climbed the staircase, his eyes glued to the increasingly violent scenes beneath him as he went.

How much time passed as Levi wandered the halls of Pandemonium was known only to the Goddess Herself. He walked as if in a trance, his eyes never leaving the chaos at his feet, even to admire the glistening gold around him. When he turned down branching hallways, he did so with the blind ease of a rat following bread crumbs in a maze. Where the other uncarpeted paths might go did not even enter his mind. The Fall of Man was his chosen path now.

The images on the carpet varied from horrific battles to scenes of intense malice and hate to scenes of the most depraved and perverse aspects of humanity. Levi was no stranger to any of these things, and had taken part in them all throughout his long and loathsome life. He reveled in the scenes of destruction and greed, and gave knowing leers at the scenes of murder and rape. He had seen all this before, and enjoyed every moment of it.

Soon a subtle change began to surface within the blood-stained carpet. The image of a lone man with a golden crown riding a huge serpent-like beast appeared suddenly, and as the graphic images wove their story, the man featured more and more in them. He was always leading the charge in the worst acts of brutality and hate, and always had a grim smile on his face as he claimed his prize. The most striking feature of the man was his left eye. Instead of a real eye, he had a large black sphere embedded in the socket. A bright yellow gleam shone from deep within the dark eye where sparks were firing like small lightning bolts. Levi swore in the back of his mind that if he bent down and touched the image he would be shocked for sure.

The air around Levi also began to change smoothly and quietly as he continued his trek. A distinct electric energy was building up in the halls, like the odd static before a great storm. Levi paid no mind to this change in the atmosphere as he dutifully followed the Fall of Man to its inevitable end.

Levi was sure the end was near now. There were no more battles, no more wars. Only the crowned man with the dark eye, subjugating all, ruling all, and possessing all from atop his great beast. A growing light was also featuring prominently behind everything. It started out as a pale glow from the man's crown, but soon the light had a life of its own, and encompassed the majority of the carpet's imagery. By the time Levi had gotten within sight of the carpets brilliant end, the light was visibly shining from the carpet and Levi could barely stand to look at it. When the light finally became too bright for his eyes, Levi looked up, and saw the face of the Goddess before him. _His_ Goddess.

She was beautiful. The perfect image Levi had always had in his mind since childhood. This was the image he had tried in vain to capture on the prow of his ship. Standing now before Her, he knew all his attempts to visualize Her had been wasted effort. Her golden hair flowed in long gentle slopes down Her lithe, nude body. Only a single, long swath of blue silk covered Her, flowing from and around Her body as if it where as much a part of Her as Her hair. Behind her body was a massive gold medallion inscribed with a language lost to mortals eons ago. This too seemed to be a part of her being, the gold formed from her own sacred flesh. In Her face was a look that confused the awestruck Levi. It was a face of incomprehensible beauty and fierceness, but also whispered of pain and sorrow. He knew without knowing that whatever sorrows She had suffered were Hers alone to carry, until the end of time. She was as unknowable as She was untouchable, and the unrepentant look in Her eyes told Levi any effort he made to console the grief he saw would be met with swift rebuke. For the first time in his life, Levi believed with complete conviction that he saw something that could never be his.

The Goddess seemed to read his thoughts, sensing his total acquiescence to Her power and grace. She did not move, perhaps could not move, but Her eyes twinkled with a majestic spark that told Levi he had come to where he was destined to be. She spoke then, but Her lips never wavered from their tight, knowing smile.

"Jonah Levi. You have come far, farther than you know. In here time does not pass, and distance means nothing. The only power here is that of the Goddess. Of Me. Will you bow before My power?"

Levi bowed.

"You will serve me well, my emissary. Now look before you and see the power of the Goddess, which by your hand has been freed from its prison of mortal flesh."

Levi did as he was bade and looked down at the carpet once more, expecting to see the same blinding light as before. There was no light this time, only the lone man with the dark eye. Levi looked closer, realizing the startling truth. There was no carpet before him now. He was staring at his own reflection in the golden floor tiles!

The transformation was startling. Indeed, Levi now had both his eyes, only the left one was now a perfect sphere of the darkest black. The only light in it was a faint spark deep within its core that flashed whenever Levi concentrated. On his head he now wore the golden crown depicted on the carpet. He still wore his grey-green peacoat, and was still cursed with the wooden leg, but none of that mattered now. The Goddess had chosen him to be Her emissary, and he would fulfill Her every wish from now until the end of time. And he knew there was much for him to do in the name of his Goddess.

"My Goddess..."

Dune was shaken from his sleep by a rough hand. The Maiden of the Sea had found its way safely into harbor some days ago, and its crew now journeyed north to Narsille by land aboard a vehicle similar to the Figaro, but much smaller in scale and majesty.

"What is it?"

Indie's voice trembled through the early morning air, his voice laced with fear...and something else.

"You have to come and see this, Dune. We've come within sight of Narsille."

"Really? It's about time! I always enjoy the first glimpse of its towers at sunrise." Dune could sense the odd tone in Indie's voice, but brushed it off as nerves. They had all been under unusual pressure on this voyage, and tension was sure to rise as they neared Narsille.

Dune and Indie climbed the ladder to the observation deck outside, Dune eager to see his home again, Indie simply following him like a lost shadow. What he saw both shocked and confused him. Narsille looked the same as it always had, impenetrable and stolid. Above it, filling the sky where the sun should have been, was something Dune had hoped he would never see again, let alone see above his very home. The Storm.

It hovered quietly above Narsille, waiting for something only it knew. Dune could see that it had indeed begun raining within the city walls, but he knew this storm well, and it was plain the brunt of its rage was still hidden. Still, Narsille had never had so much as a drizzle since Indie's weather system had been installed, and he was sure real rain would come as more than a small shock to the citizens of this pristine city. There was sure to be chaos in the streets as people doubted and those in charge faltered. Dune couldn't help but inwardly smile at the thought of the Committee trying to explain this recent failure of their control. But the signs here were unmistakable. _Something _had gone horribly wrong.

Indie looked at his ATLAS device with a growing look of dismay and sadness on his face, and a weary nod told Dune all he needed to know. That was no ordinary storm out there. Whatever was in front of them, they were powerless before it. Dune did not need a fancy machine to tell him that. He looked at Indie with his face full of worry, hoping for some explanation, however small and inconsequential it may be.

"Professor, what is it?"

Indie said nothing for a long while, breathing slowly and staring ineffectually at his ATLAS device. He finally set the device down with trembling hands and looked up at the Storm he was powerless to stop, or even to know. With tears welling in his eyes, he told Dune the harsh, unforgiving truth of the situation.

"The end, Dune. That...is the end."


	41. Omens of the Past, 'The Ritual'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

_As startlingly blank as the pages of history before the War of the Magi are, who is to say there aren't further stories buried even further back? How many times has the cycle repeated? Perhaps this cataclysm that befell us was, in fact, only the most recent of many. If this is the case, then the world may not be quite as irreparably devastated as we believed. __With the great reconstruction just beginning, my desire to see this new world of ours has been rekindled. Many strange and wondrous ruins of truly ancient origin were unearthed in the Collapse, some of which seem to predate the War of the Magi. What untold sagas, what unfathomable truths about our world might be waiting in these artifacts from the dawn of civilization? It is time I began my penance, and started the great work of my life._

-From _A Return to Life_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 5 AF

* * *

**Part 6.1 - The Ritual**

"Jehad."

A man dressed from head to toe in silvery white robes was kneeling before a massive winged statue at the center of a great hall, oblivious to everything around him as he prayed. His head was bowed in deep reflection, his long white hair drooping over his face as he murmured holy verse. He did not hear his name being called from the altar at the front of the hall.

"Jehad, it is time. Rise, my son."

Ahead of the praying man and the glowing statue was a raised dais covered in red cloth. A frail man bent over with extreme old age stood at the foot of the dais, his back to a strange white object as he waited for Jehad to respond. The object behind him was a giant pearl, now pulsing with a pure white light that basked the holy father with a divine aura. The flowing robes he wore were as white as the pearl's glow, but also glowed with the shimmer of mythril trim and intricate gold designs sewn into the fabric. The same designs covered the entire hall from ceiling to floor.

The old man walked over to the magnificent statue Jehad kneeled before, his steps brisk. The holy father was a patient man, but Jehad was now sorely testing his limits. He could understand and appreciate Jehad's dedication, and the gravity of the coming ritual was not lost on either man, but when the High Elder of the Order of the Pearl called, it was a priest's duty to respond immediately and with the proper respect. Not a hint of the impatience he felt showed on the holy father's face as he placed a gentle hand on Jehad's shoulder.

Like a man coming out of a trance, Jehad slowly turned his head to meet the holy father's kind gaze. Cold, gray eyes rose to meet soft blue ones. Jehad blinked once, then quickly stood up straight and gave a low bow of reverence to his Elder.

"Forgive me, Father. I was praying to the Holy Master for divine protection during the coming trial. I am worried, and prayer soothes my nerves."

"Do not worry, Jehad. Our fates all lie in His hands tonight. The Pearl of Order offers us its purifying light as a show of faith to all believers. As long as it glows white, the world is at peace, and we are safe. Remember this, and be at ease."

Jehad let his gaze shift to the pulsing orb behind the Elder. It's soft glow filled the room with an invisible veil of warmth and protection, and Jehad felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. The holy father was right, there was nothing to worry about as long as the Holy Master watched over them.

"Is everything ready, then? We leave tomorrow, at dawn?"

"Yes. You will leave for the Nacropolis at that time with the Offering. I have assigned you an entourage of scholars that have requested to be present during the ceremony. They will serve as both guides and bodyguards while you are with them. They are all strong, moral men that are highly regarded in the academic circles. I believe they will serve you well on your journey. Show them the same respect you would show me."

"I understand, Father."

"This is the last time we will see each other for a while, Jehad. It is my duty to hand you the Offering personally before the Pearl of Order. Please, follow me."

The Elder turned and walked back up the dais where the Pearl of Order rested. Jehad followed, giving the Elder respectful distance as he approached the most sacred artifact of the Order. No one but the Elder was permitted to approach the Pearl, and no one but the Elder knew its true origin or purpose. Jehad stopped at the base of the dais and watched with rapt attention as the Elder performed a ritual that had not been witnessed for a hundred years. He was honored beyond words to be here, and to be an actual part of this time-honored tradition.

Upon reaching the relic, the Elder carefully put his hands on its surface, gently caressing its clear, faultless surface. Speaking in a language known only to him, he seemed to reach into the Pearl itself, and pull out at string of quickly solidifying fluid, or perhaps this was only a trick of eyes blinded by the growing rays of light pouring from the Pearl. Whatever it was, the Elder was now silent, and had in his hands a string of eight smaller pearls, like a necklace, all shining with the same blinding light of the Pearl of Order. He finished the incantation with a final word, "Al-Shinjuo!" spoken louder than the rest. The blinding light of the necklace snapped backwards into the centers of each small pearl, restoring the room to its previous soft glow. He sighed to himself as if the weight of the entire world rested inside the fragile string of pearls, and turned to Jehad with the most serious look the priest had ever seen on his face.

"Jehad, this is the Nacre, a divine jewel made from the very essence of the Pearl of Order. I entrust it to you as the Offering. Deliver it to the Nacropolis safely, and follow your orders as I have given them to you. As long as you follow my words, the Pearl will be kept from turning black and the world will remain at peace. This is the most important duty any member of the Order can hope to be granted, and the Pearl has chosen you as the most worthy among us all to carry it out. Do not let us down."

Jehad was overwhelmed with the responsibility he had been given. He was merely a simply priest, not a hero! He replied as humbly as he could in the face of such honor.

"My Father, I will receive this Offering with the Holy Master's blessing, and deliver it safely to its rightful location. May the Order be blessed by my success."

The Elder seemed satisfied with his response, and handed him the Nacre. He looked at Jehad with what looked like sadness, and said, "Jehad, now go. Know that you are the most devout of us all, and it has been an honor to watch you grow and receive the infinite blessing of the Holy Master. He will surely not forget your devotion. Remember his love and benevolence always, and you will never fear the darkness. Good-bye, my son."

Jehad nodded without speaking, and slowly left the great hall, briefly stopping by the statue to offer one last prayer before moving on to his great destiny. The Elder's eyes followed him out.

"Poor fool. May Altimus guide your soul," the Elder said to himself, still looking intently at the great doors, now shut. The Elder alone new the true weight of this ritual, and the true horror. He knew he would never see Jehad again, the ritual demanding not just the Nacre, but the life of its bearer as well. This was the most highly kept secret of the Order, only known to the Elder himself. A dark and barbaric sacrifice, but a necessary evil to ensure the stability of the entire world. The dark poison that had filled the Nacropolis's halls for thousands of years must not be allowed to spread, and only the Nacre and a worthy soul to bear it kept the Dark Master's vileness in check. Surely one brave soul every hundred years was worth the souls of all life on the planet?

The Elder sighed heavily again, the same old problem vexing his tired mind. He had hoped not to live to bear his favorite pupil to his death, but the anniversary of the great cataclysm that befell their former home had arrived before his own demise, and the ritual would not wait on a mere mortal's whims. He only hoped Jehad would forgive him, and forgive the Order for its dark secret that the young priest had unknowingly groomed himself for all his life.

"Poor fool," the Elder muttered again, and made his way back towards his study, to further contemplate the mysteries of life, and the necessity for evil in a world supposedly guided by the hand of righteousness.


	42. Omens of the Past, 'Familiar Faces'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.2 - Familiar Faces**

The morning sun rose as it always did over the quiet port town of Bariki. As usual, many fisherman were out already, casting their nets for the day's first haul, and a few hard-working women were strolling the palm tree-lined streets, looking through merchant's stalls for ingredients to their families' breakfasts. Most of the town was still asleep, and would awake in their own time to another idyllic day. Almost nothing ever happened in this town, and the townsfolk liked that just fine.

A peaceful town far away from any cities or kingdoms, Bariki had enjoyed a humble prosperity for many generations due to its isolation. Being situated on a tiny tropical island near the rim of the deadly Mordic Ocean, not many people chose to come here, or even knew of its existence. Those that did know and did come never stayed for long, fearing the curse of the Mordic. The townsfolk just chuckled at these superstitions, knowing full well that the Mordic was only dangerous to those who sought its secrets. Like a sleeping serpent, if left alone it was as harmless as any other body of water. The only danger it posed was the danger of being stranded in its strangely still waters, with no wind or current to guide a ship out. With no fish to catch there, there was no reason to venture that far into the ocean anyways, and so the town of Bariki had remained at peace with the Mordic, and at peace with the rest of the world for countless years.

The only ripple in the lives of these people was the mysterious ritual of the Order that brought their white-clad priests here only once every hundred years. The people of Bariki knew of the Order, and even had a few believers among their population, but knew nothing of the nature of this ritual that brought strangers to their shore. The villagers had no ill-will towards the Order priests, and welcomed them like any other visitor.

Today was the day of the long-awaited ritual, and while there were a few onlookers, mostly children and fishermen, waiting to catch a glimpse of the strange people at their docks, most of the town was happy to let the Order come and go without fanfare. The business of the outside world was not their business.

Down at the docks the Order's ship was now arriving, with two more ships following it. The three ships were an unusual site together, like three different worlds converging on the tiny island. The first ship, the Order's, was a surprisingly modern looking vessel made of metal and driven by motors and propellers. It was painted a stark white, with little decoration besides a few flags showing the Order's symbols. This was the typical type of vessel that the villagers saw, usually hailing from the industrialized nations like Narsille, East Jidorik, or Doma. From the sleek, seamless look of it, it was Narsillian in make and model. Only they had the technology to make something so...otherworldly.

The second ship looked almost like one of the island's own sailing vessels, with no modern technology or pretty colors to distinguish it. The only remarkable feature was an amazingly life-like carving of a woman at the prow, her arms outstretched and twisted, palms outwards. The fishermen still hovering about the docks instantly recognized her as their lady of the water, Aria. She may be known as Elia in other parts of the world, but the fishermen here all knew her as Aria, and paid her as much respect as the Order did their Holy Master. The sturdy, well-traveled look of the ship and its familiar carving instantly endeared this vessel to the fishermen. This was the vessel of a true man of the sea.

The third ship was similar in shape and size to the second ship, but had several major differences. It was covered in gaudy ornaments and decorations, and gleamed with gold from prow to stern. It looked to be more modern, or at least more well-kept than the second ship, but still made of wood and carrying a sail. The most striking feature of this striking vessel was the glowing blue woman engraved at the prow, her one arm outstretched, the other clutching a sphere of pure gold. The last major difference was the obvious presence of weapons on board the ship, a site that slightly disturbed the fishermen observing the ship as it pushed its way into the harbor. War was unheard of here, and anyone who brought weapons to this paradise was not welcome. They would be keeping their eyes on this one.

Once all three ships were safely docked, their passengers began disembarking and gathering near the Order's vessel. From the Order's ship came one lone priest, clad in traditional white robes, and with long white hair that came down to his shoulders. Despite his white hair, he looked to be man no older than thirty, and very nervous. If this was the man's first time on the open seas, the fishermen would not be surprised. Around his neck was a necklace made of pearls, but far brighter than any pearls the fishermen had ever found.

Coming to greet him from the second ship were four men of similar age to the priest, but wildly different appearances. One looked as much a rugged sailor as any of the fishermen and instantly gained the fishermen's respect just by his jovial demeanor and true sea-faring swagger, but the others looked more like the Narsillian scientists that constantly visited the island and tried to sell the village on the wonders of technology, a bothersome dance that always ended the same way. They were dressed in the working clothes of Narsillian mechanics and field workers, and all three bore the unmistakable look of pure curiosity that men of science always carried with them. Despite the Narsillian dress and obviously scientific airs, the three seemed friendly enough, and on good terms with the sea-faring man, who could only be the captain of the second ship. The four of them happily chattered with themselves as they took in the sights of the island's pristine waters and lush forests. Upon reaching the priest, the captain gave him friendly slap on the back, nearly knocking him over. They all laughed, and even the shy priest seemed to loosen his nerves around these men.

The last man to join the group was a sour-looking man from the third ship. Tall, straight and gaunt, he carried himself like a captain, but not the kind any of the fishermen would be caught dead sailing with. He had lank, black hair that framed a pale haggard face worn down long before its time. In that gruesome visage was a look of envious greed, and that coupled with the weapons on his ship warned the villagers present to stay away from this man. As he walked off his ship his eyes darted from the other newcomers to the huts and stalls lining the docks, to the boats of the villagers, sizing up everything up like a shopkeeper taking inventory. He must have found the inventory lacking, for he shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze back to the priest after a few moments. Thrusting his hands into his long green pea coat, he made a very business-like beeline straight for the group, like a man crossing the street in the rain, eager to get out of it as soon as possible. He muttered a few words to the priest, then turned and walked straight back to his ship.

"Not a very pleasant fellow is he?" the priest remarked to the four men from the second ship. "Levi, he said his name was, right? I must say, he is does not seem to be quite the moral character my Elder assured me he would be."

"Don't worry about him, sonny," one of the three scientist-looking men said happily, stroking his well-kept beard. "Jonah Levi is harmless. He's just an unhappy man who doesn't get along with people. Leave him alone and he'll leave you alone."

Now the captain of the second vessel spoke up. "Aye, Indie has the right of it. I've heard of Levi from other sailors and he's just an overfed toad that's gotten too big for his pond. I'm sure he paid off the Order to be here, and is hoping to expand his fortunes and maybe buy a few more lily pads. Pay him no mind."

"But Captain Bismark, are you sure we can trust him?" The priest looked anxiously from one man to the other, hoping for some piece of good news about the man known as Levi. The looks on all but one of the four faces did not help ease his fears, however.

"He hasn't done anything to us to warrant this kind of talk, now has he?" This came from the tallest of the five men; a strong, tanned man with grey hair half hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, and the look of a man just come in from a long day's work in the fields. "Come now, the man may be unpleasant, but he's willing to risk his life for this expedition, just like the rest of us. I say we give him a chance to prove himself before jumping to rumors and hearsay."

The other men quickly softened to the tall man's comment. "Silas is right, as usual," Captain Bismark said gruffly. "We'll treat him like any other member of the group until he gives us a reason to. I don't like him, but he's a scientist like the rest of us, so he can't be _all_ bad." The captain said these words, but in his heart he wondered if he really believed them. Only he had heard the stories of this man, and if even half of them were true, it would be unwise to turn their backs on him. But Silas's generosity was infectious, and it was hard to hate someone that he put his faith in.

Everyone reluctantly agreed to trust Levi, and now the only thing left was to prepare for the voyage. The captain took charge of this step as efficiently as if the men around him were his own crew. "Now then, Jehad. As you know, we're here on a purely scientific basis, and have no wish to interfere with the Order's ritual. Indie, Silas, Alex, and I will take you to Phoenix Isle and follow you as far as we have been allowed to go into this so-called Nacropolis your people speak of. Levi has as much as agreed to the same. Just tell us where to go, and we'll follow. Tell us when to turn back, and we'll turn back. Remember, this is your mission, we're just visitors."

Bismark wondered just what this ritual of theirs was about, but he was not about to meddle in affairs that were not his. Jehad may not be fully aware of the rich and strange history of the infamous Phoenix Isle, but he certainly was, as was any sailor worth his salt. The island only rose to the surface of the water once every hundred years, through unknown geologic processes. After a few days, it then sunk back below the surface of the waves, like it was never there at all. Alex theorized that some complicated volcanic process beneath the island caused it to erupt violently on a hundred-year cycle, heaving it up above the waves, only to sink again once the eruptions stopped. This was why Alex had wanted to join the group. As a geologist, he couldn't pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity like this.

An even greater mystery was the fabled birthplace of the Order of the Pearl that was said to rest inside the crater at the heart of Phoenix Isle. Thousands of years ago, this had a been a thriving city sitting on what was thought to be an extinct volcano. Some terrible event had destroyed the city and forced the survivors to flee their homeland, which sunk into the waves soon after. The enigmatic Nacropolis, as this lost city was called by the Order, was the main reason Silas had asked to come along. His specialty was archeology, and the chance to actually visit an ancient city like this was like being given the chance to visit one of the twin moons.

To add to the wonder of this island was the fact that it was situated so close to the Mordic Ocean. Some said that the island itself was somehow the cause of the Mordic's strange behavior, and that legends say that before the catastrophe that originally sunk the island, the Mordic had been a normal patch of ocean. There were no records from such an ancient time now, unless the Order kept them. Indie, or Professor Indra as his more stuffy associates called him, was here to try and figure out the strange weather patterns that pervaded this area of the world. There was nothing else like it on earth, and the island resurfacing was the perfect chance to get some land-based samples on the history of this areas weather patterns.

Bismark reflected on the strange and happy coincidence that all three of these men were good friends with each other, and with him as well, and were here now for the same reasons. They had crossed paths in their various fields many times, and had found much in common with each other, their love of both science and nature first and foremost. If anyone could figure out what had really happened here, these four could. Levi might be able to help if he chose to, but Bismark knew that man was here for only one reason - the treasure that surely lurked inside the lost city's catacombs. As long as he didn't get in anyone's way, Levi could have all the loot he wanted. Bismark doubted anyone would miss it in that dead city.

Bismark turned to Alex, always his first-mate when he was on board, and asked him rather loudly if the ship was ready to sail.

"As soon as we resupply here in Bariki, we'll be ready to head out, Mobius." Alex spoke up from his reverie, unbroken since he got off the Maiden of the Sea. Always an introspective man, he tended to lose himself in his thoughts, but Captain Bismark was adept at bringing him to his senses. "Whenever Jehad gives the signal, we can go. How are things on your ship, Jehad?"

"I think they will be ready in a bit. We just need to refuel and we should be ready," Jehad answered. "What about Captain Levi? Should we wait to see what he is doing?"

Indie spoke up now. "Nah. You heard'em. He said he's already sick of this place and is ready to follow us as soon as we raise anchor. Personally, if we left him behind I wouldn't find it any great loss, but he is a part of this expedition."

"A-alright, then, Professor Indra," Jehad said nervously. "I still don't like the idea of a man with that kind of look in his eye stepping foot on sacred ground, but if Professor Karn says to trust him, and you all agree with him, I will follow my Elder's word and welcome you all to our homeland. Now, we should probably split up and prepare for the second leg of the voyage, right?"

"That's fine by us," Bismark said. "We'll meet back here in three hours. Alright men! let's get what we need to get, and get back to the sea!"

With that, the five split up and went about the village to gather supplies, while Levi holed himself up on his ship, apparently as well stocked as he felt he needed to be. The strange new faces at the merchant's stalls only fazed the people of Bariki for a moment. To them, they were just another passing wave, to be shouldered with the same patience as a fisherman at sea. They would pass through, and then leave, just like visitors always did. No one stayed long in this town who didn't live here, and these three new ships were no different. In three hours they would be gone from their lives and things would be as peaceful and quiet here as they had always been.

If only the poor townsfolk knew that this fated voyage would bring a dramatic and decisive end to the unbroken peace they had enjoyed for so long, and wipe Bariki off the precious few maps it was still on.


	43. Omens of the Past, 'Miracles'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.3 - Miracles**

The three ships had left the tranquility of Bariki behind, and were now moving forward towards Phoenix Isle. Guided by Jehad in the Order's ship, Bismark's and Levi's ships followed in close formation, not daring to lose sight of the only guide they had. Only the Order knew the exact location of the island, and only the Nacre in Jehad's possession could guide them safely to it. The men of science aboard Bismark's ship scoffed at the idea of a piece of jewelry acting like a compass, but they respected Jehad's beliefs, and knew they didn't have much choice but to follow his lead.

Being situated so close to the Mordic Ocean, it was dangerous to stray off the exact course mapped by the Nacre's guiding light, or risk getting stuck in the nearby ocean's strangely dead waves. Indeed, even the surrounding waters that encompassed the Phoenix Isle were normally too weak for a sailing vessel like Bismark's Maiden of the Sea to traverse without an engine like Levi's ship and the Order's ship had. Luckily there was a strong wind and even a current moving in the right direction, so Bismark was able to keep up with the other ships. Jehad said that the power of the Nacre temporarily lifted the curse of the Mordic, allowing safe and swift passage to the Phoenix Isle. This was how ships navigated the voyage in the days before engines, or so Jehad claimed. Bismark and his men simply smiled and indulged the man in his beliefs upon hearing this fairy tale.

Soon they neared the island, much to the surprise of the scientists, who had to admit the voyage was surprisingly smooth and on course despite the dubious method of guidance. Maybe there was something to this Order after all. Maybe.

"So how are we supposed to get on that rock, anyways?" Bismark said from the wheel of the Maiden as the island came into view. "It's nothing but sheer cliffs all the way around as far as I can tell."

"More magic jewels, I suppose," Alex commented from Bismark's side.

"Hmph," Bismark grunted, "We'll see."

Bismark's assumption was right. Phoenix Isle was not much more than a straight-faced mountain jutting out of the sea, with no shores or safe harbors to be found on any side. From their current distance, the island looked more than a little intimidating, with cliffs of volcanic rock rising high out of the ocean and myriad crags of rock poking out from the waters at the islands base. The waves crashed fearfully against the fortress walls of the island sending sprays of white foam in all directions, and no ship, not even the Narsillian-made ship of metal piloted by the Order, would be able to get anywhere near the island. So just how was Jehad going to land?

"Look at that!" Indie gasped as he and Silas came up on deck to join the other two scientists as they waited for Jehad's miracle landing. "The clouds above the island! My charts showed that there would be no dangerous weather on this trip, but that cloud formation is as full of ill-will as any I've ever seen. Just look at those twisting plumes spiraling out from the center. It looks like a miniature hurricane forming over the island as we speak!"

Indeed, there was a storm system unlike any Indie had ever seen rapidly congealing out of the clouds above the island. It was black, bloated and full of menace, and looked about ready to unleash hell on the defenseless ships approaching it.

Just as Bismark was about to order the crew to prepare for a storm, though, something happened that would once again make the scientists question Jehad's silly superstitions. The storm simply stopped. The black fingers snaking out suddenly contracted and disappeared inside the clouds black body. The cloud itself shrunk and turned several shades grayer, approaching the look of a more normal storm cloud. In a few moments, the cloud had contracted to a much more manageable puff of smoke, and was no longer the latent threat it once was. Something had defeated the storm, but what?

"The damnedest thing..." was all Bismark could mutter as he scratched his head in bewilderment.

"That was...impossible..." Silas said, equally flabbergasted. "Maybe..maybe we hit the storm just as it was ending?" he added, with a hopeful, but not quite believing note.

Indie, on the other hand, was positively ecstatic. "Would you look at that! I knew I was right in deciding to come here! Hah! Just imagine the data I can gather once we get right under that cloud. Assuming we _can_ actually get onto that island. I can't wait!"

"Hmm...I don't know." Now Alex spoke up from his usual pensiveness, not quite as stunned as the others. "If this really is an undersea volcano that has recently risen from the ocean under extreme eruptive forces, then that cloud may be the remnants of the initial eruption. Volcanic events are well-known to create most unusual atmospheric phenomena. Sorry Indie, but I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if that was just a lingering after effect from the eruption that brought this island back to the surface."

Alex's assessment seemed to bring the others back down to earth, but all four men still felt like what they had just seen was not quite...normal. And if they could have seen what was happening on the Order's vessel, they might not have agreed with Alex's theory so quickly.

On the Order's ship a few moments earlier, Jehad had walked out to the front of the ship to witness the strange storm just as Bismark and his crew had. Jehad had been warned in advance of the many dangers awaiting him on the Phoenix Isle, and thanks to the Elder's detailed instructions, he knew how to navigate them and reach his goal. The secret path of wind opened by the Nacre was the first obstacle, this guardian storm was next.

Reciting the ancient words his Elder had made him memorize, he took the Nacre from his neck and held it out to the sky, much like the Offering it was. The storm seemed to sense his presence, and a single black tendril changed direction and began to worm its way towards the ship. Before it could reach the ship, Jehad finished the incantation with a yell of "Al-Aqualem!" and the entire cloud froze. A single small pulse of light shot from the Nacre and ascended into the heart of the storm cloud faster than anyone but Jehad could see. The cloud instantly shuttered and contracted, as if struck by a fatal arrow, and began its remarkable transformation witnessed by the men of the Maiden.

"Thank you...for your blessing...Mistress of Water." Jehad gasped, visibly shaken by the short, but profound ritual. Now was not the time to give into fatigue, and Jehad knew he must immediately began the next incantation to allow for safe transit onto the island.

Now he took the Nacre and placed it on the floor of the ship. He took from his robes a small pouch and emptied its contents - ordinary dirt - onto the Nacre, while reciting the third of the incantations he had memorized. This time he yelled out "Al-Gianon!" and fell to the deck exhausted just as the last specks of earth hit the Nacre. The effects of his trial were quickly apparent to all members of all three ships.

A deathly silence fell around the ships, and nothing could be heard for miles. The wind had stopped, the waves had stopped, and even the motors of the ships had ceased. Only one thing could now be heard - a soft hum, growing from nothing into a steady vibration that shook the ships and caused ripples to form on the surrounding waters. The hum grew to a rumble, and from a rumble to a roar. Now not only the ships shook, but even Phoenix Island itself could be seen to visibly tremble. The roar continued to rise into a screeching howl as the sound of rocks being ripped and torn apart filled the air. A narrow chasm was slowly widening in the cliffs directly in front of where the Order's ship waited. Water gushed into the new opening and soon a perfectly straight pathway had been hewn into what was formerly a sheer cliff wall. It was the perfect size and height for a single ship to pass through, and the Order's ship wasted no time in heading into the maw of the Phoenix.

Bismark's ship carefully followed them in, not quite sure what had just happened, but blaming "unusual seismic aftershocks" as the likely cause, albeit half-heartedly. The succession of amazing coincidences that seemed to be opening up one path after another for them was slowly but surely wearing away at the rock-hard foundation of science and logic the men aboard the Maiden had built the careers on.

On board the Golden Goddess, Captain Jonah Levi had not been ignorant of what was happening. He too was standing outside, watching the miracles being performed by Jehad, although he had no room in the dank, gold-filled corridors of his mind to be impressed by the parlor tricks performed by the Order's court jesters. That Jehad had found a way into the island, and would surely find a way into the Nacropolis, and beyond, was just a matter of course. He wouldn't have started this foolish ceremony otherwise. It wasn't for Levi to account for these phenomena, only to follow the Order into their citadel, and take whatever he could find. All under the guise of knowledge-seeking, of course. He too gave the order to follow the ship into the chasm, a malevolent glint of greed in his eyes.

After a dark journey through the underbelly of the island, the three ships emerged into a world very different than any man of science would have predicted. The men of the Maiden had assumed there would be no life on this island, having been completely submerged under miles of water for a century. This was a purely logical conclusion, and as obvious as the idea that water would be wet.

However, what greeted their eyes upon exiting a small cave on the interior wall of the island's central mountain was a lost world filled with both flora and fauna unknown to the outside world. The sheer abundance of greenery dazzled the men, and they swore they could feel the very pulse of life emanating from the foliage that covered and re-covered every square inch of the land. Grass upon grass, flowers upon flowers, and trees upon trees filled their view, with no path through them to be seen. The scent of a hundred different blossoms filled their noses, causing more than a few sneezes before they could grow accustomed to the strong, pure scent of life at its fullest. Here was a tropical paradise rising from the ashes of a volcanic maw.

As the three boats drifted lazily down the narrow river that flowed from the mouth of the cave, the men of the Maiden looked around them to see just where they were. Surely this could not still be the desolate dry landmass they had spied from the outside? But surely it was. They could see high above them on all sides the distant lips of the volcanic crater that dominated the island. They were inside the crater now, and they were obviously not alone.

Just as the plant life had bombarded their sight and smell upon entering the crater, the sounds of many bizarre animals now reached the ears, filling the forests around them with a cacophony of noise. Loud roars of great beasts mingled with the incessant buzzes of millions of insects. Fish could be seen and heard splashing in and out of the water as their ships disturbed them. Birds of all sizes could be seen erupting from the treetops as their ships passed by, cawing and squawking at the strange intruders who dared step foot on their territory. There were also sounds of living things that no man aboard the Maiden could put even a general name to. Bird, beast, or bug? Who knew? This was truly a wondrous place, far exceeding the initial expectations that led them here, and they regretted that they did not have more than a few days to study it.

Levi say none of this. He only saw what his eyes, clouded by greed, let him see. What Levi saw was nothing but a wild claptrap of pests to be cleared through and fought past before he could get to something truly valuable. Nature was of no value to him, unless it could be captured and sold as an exotic pet or cure, perhaps? Now his mind expanded on the possibilities for profit, and perhaps that nightmarish landscape inside his head really did see a twisted version of the beauty here, if only through a mirror of avarice.

Jehad was not surprised at the sights around him. These same sights greeted whoever was chosen to come here, and were the very same sights his people had originally enjoyed every day when they called this island their home. Even after millennia of being passed down, the legends of their homeland's beauty had remained strong in the hearts of the Order's devout, and one of the great hopes of the Order was that they may one day return here for more than a few days every hundred years.

But Jehad knew that was impossible as long as the rot at the core of their citadel remained. He was not here today to destroy this decay, only to stay its hand from reaching beyond the island. His only purpose here now was to renew the vows of his people and prove that they had not forgotten their homeland, and their duty to it. He held the Nacre in his hands, glancing over its string of pearls. There were only five pearls still glowing now, the other three had faded to a dull grey luster, nothing more than regular pearls of the sea now. He was almost halfway to his destiny now.

The ships now flowed single file into a small bay sparkling in the bright sun above, where they came to a gentle rest against a sandbar. The storm cloud that had so menaced them from the outside could not be seen from here, and if it was still there at all no one knew, except maybe Jehad. Jehad exited his ship alone, leaving the rest of the crew behind. Bismark, Alex, Indie, and Silas all left the Maiden together, still bewildered at the unexpected environment they found themselves in. Theories flew through the air as they attempted in vain to explain what they were seeing. There was no explaining this paradise, though, and they could only laugh at their own ignorance in the face of the nature's unbridled majesty and mystery.

Levi was the last to leave his ship, but quickly passed the others as he trampled over everything in his path, straight towards Jehad. He knew that Jehad would find the path through this mess just as he had found a path through the water and earth, and he would be right behind him to have the first chance at any spoils he may find. Those fools behind him would be too busy gawking to notice anything of worth, and Jehad was too full of his own beliefs to care about the wealth that may be around him. This would almost be too easy.

Soon Bismark's group caught up with Jehad and Levi, and they couldn't help but voice their amazement to their unlikely guide.

"Jehad! How is all this possible?" Indie ejaculated as soon as he reached the priest. "Life! There's life everywhere! It's scientifically impossible for all this to be here, do you know that?"

Jehad, always serious, merely waved his arm across the forest scene and replied, "It is the work of the Holy Master Altimus. Through his divine grace, life thrives here as it always has, untouched by whatever happens beyond these walls. The world outside could end, and our homeland would remain as it did in ancient times, eternally protected by the Holy Master. Such is his power, and his promise to his devoted followers of Pearl."

This answer was not quite the answer Indie wanted, but it was what he expected. He said no more, but simply smiled, perhaps believing more of what Jehad said than he was willing to admit.

"Well this trip has truly surprised us all, me thinks." Bismark said. "I could spend a lifetime studying the marine life here, but we've only got a few days, so we have to figure out the best way to bring back as much knowledge of this place as we can. I do believe we're the first non-Orders to set foot here, right?"

"That is correct, Captain Bismark," Jehad replied. "You have been offered a rare privilege, and I hope you honor this holy ground. The Holy Master is watching."

"Indeed, indeed," Bismark smiled. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that a hearty respect for nature is a good thing, and something we all believe in, even if we don't quite take up with all this Holy Master guff." Bismark winced and added, "Aah, sorry about that. I meant no disrespect."

Jehad seemed unfazed by Bismark's mistake, and simply nodded. True Belief was not something all men were granted with. He was one of the lucky few to not have to struggle with the question of faith. He believed in himself, and through his own strength he felt the strength and truth of the Holy Master, and knew all he needed to know. He had known all his life.

"Now then! Enough of this jabber. Priest, where is this city you spoke of?" Levi cut in, frustrating with all the standing and gawking being done. "If we only have a few days, then we'd better find this place and do what we came here to do. Let's go already!"

Levi marched ahead of Jehad and made an attempt to guess which way the city lay, but gave up after a few fruitless hacks at the thick tangle of undergrowth. he cursed audibly and turned to Jehad with a look that said "Well? Now what?"

The nervous feeling Jehad had felt at the docks in Bariki once again returned to him as he watched Levi rant and rave. He tried his best to conceal his emotions and simply said, "This way, then."

He once again took the Nacre from his neck and held it out in front of him like a compass. The remaining pearl-lights glimmered, and he turned in the complete opposite direction Levi had begun hacking towards.

"This is the direction the Nacropolis is in. Let us go."

And with that, all six men began pushing, pulling and hacking their way through the dense forest. They frequently stopped to rest and to admire any strange new life they encountered, much to Levi's disgust. Soon they reached a small clearing where eight stone paths branched outwards from a many-armed statue at the center of the clearing. Jehad once again took out the Nacre and determined which path to take. The others were intensely curious what lie down the other paths, but Jehad simply motioned them onward down the path the Nacre indicated. Now was not the time or place for idle excursions.

After a lengthy walk down the stone path, they reached a large stone archway, half crumbled with age. A high wall spread out from the archway on both sides, deep into the brush. Another archway could be seen further down, but only blackness could be seen beyond. Jehad stopped at the first arch, turned to his companions, and said the last thing any of them wanted to hear.

"This is the entrance path the Nacropolis's outer section. Once we pass through this arch and reach the second arch, I must ask all of you to please remain there. You have been allowed onto the Phoenix Isle, but only the chosen bearer of the Offering is permitted to enter the city proper."

This was met with much grumbling from the scientists, especially Silas, who had come here for the express purpose of studying the ancient city.

"This can't be true!" Silas exclaimed. "I have waited my whole life to study the ancient Phoenician civilization! To be denied at its very doorstep is more cruel than I would have thought the Order capable. Surely we can continue a little ways into the city?"

Levi, unexpectedly to the others, agreed with Silas. "Yes! Silas is absolutely right. How dare you drag us all the way out here, only to tell us we can't go any further. We will follow you, one way or the other. You can't stop all of us."

Jehad remained unfazed by their outbursts. "I am truly sorry you were unaware of this, but it is not a law to be broken by us mortals. Only the bearer of the Offering is permitted to enter. Any who try to enter the city without the offering will be...killed." Jehad grimaced at this unsavory word, but continued on. "The Nacropolis is filled with a poisonous mist that will quickly fell even the strongest of man or beast. It has been this way since the Dark Master unleashed his wrath on our people thousands of years ago. No one but the bearer of the Offering may enter the city and survive for long. To follow me would be suicide."

This ominous warning was more than enough for Bismark's group, even Silas...but grudgingly.

"I wonder how long I could make it in short trips..." Silas muttered under his breath, still hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the city's wonders.

Levi, however, was not to be shaken. "I don't believe in your silly stories! I came here for what is behind those walls, and I'm not leaving without a chance to have what's mine. I will follow you, whether you like it or not. If you are able to enter it, then so will I, dammit!"

Jehad did not like this man, but he remained calm and said, "Follow me if you wish, but your fate will be in the hands of the Holy Master alone if you choose to ignore my warning. I must leave now. You may wait for me here, or continue to explore the island. I will hopefully not be more than a day inside, and will return to you then, my mission completed. I bid you all farewell until then."

And with that, Jehad continued onward through the first arch before the others could argue further, eager to embrace his god-given duty. Little did he know there would be no return trip for him, and that it was his own grave he was inexorably heading towards.


	44. Omens of the Past, 'Parting Ways'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.4 - Parting Ways**

Without Jehad, the scientists were left to mull over their options. After some heated debate, they decided it would be best to try and explore some of the other paths they had seen earlier. If they couldn't enter the city, maybe they could at least find something of interest down one of them. Silas and Levi were not to be deterred, though, and continued to try and convince the group to follow Jehad.

"I know the dangers, Mobius, but I've got to at least peek my head into that city down there," Silas pleaded. "I'll only be a little while, and if I start feeling sick, I'll get the hell out of there, I promise you."

Bismark looked at his friend carefully. "Fine. I guess if I were in your shoes, I'd want to get a little closer too. This is your dream, after all. Just be careful, you hear?"

"Always. We'll meet back at that statue with all the arms, alright?"

"Sounds good to me. Well, we'd better get going." Bismark looked over at Levi, who was impatiently shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What about you Jonah? Are you still planning on going in there, too?"

"Of course!" Levi spat out, not looking at Bismark. "I'm going in there and seeing just what there is to see, and I'll do it alone. Your Professor Karn does not need to look after me."

Levi stormed off through the archway without another word.

Bismark expected as much, but called after him. "Fine by us. Just meet us back at the statue."

"Don't bother waiting for me, " Levi said over his shoulder. "When I'm done here I'm going straight back to my ship. Have fun playing in the woods."

Levi was gone into the blackness beyond the second arch before anyone could argue with him.

"At least he's eager, right?" Silas gave a good-natured shrug and turned to follow the miserable Levi into the darkness. He stopped and looked at his companions one more time. "You three be careful out there. It may be just as dangerous in those words as it is inside the city."

"Don't worry," Indie said. "Three strong men of the world like us can handle a jungle or two. We've all got our food and supplies, and we all know how to rough it. I'm more worried about that priest, though. He seems a little green."

"I don't know," Alex now spoke up slowly. "He seems more at home here than we do. This place seems to respond to him and welcome him. I know this is going to sound completely unscientific, but it feels like there really is something out there looking after him. I can't explain it, but my gut tells me he will be fine on his own."

"You know, I agree with you Alex, " Silas said. "I'm more worried about Levi following him than any trouble he may get into on his own. It's probably a good idea for me to go in there just to make sure he behaves himself. I'd better get going if I want to keep up with them. See you later!"

Silas tipped his hat and jogged down the corridor, disappearing into the second arch like Jehad and Levi before him.

The remaining three men backtracked to the central area with the eight branching paths. Even now, the route they had created to reach this place from the harbor was half regrown and soon there would be no trace of their path back to the ships. Levi may think he was going to return straight to his ship without waiting for anyone, but without Jehad it was unlikely any of them could find their way back home now.

Putting this worrisome thought at the backs of their minds for the moment, the scientists focused on what they came here to do. Research. They looked around them and counted the branching stone paths that spread out from the statue like the spokes of a wheel. Eight paths, and eight arms on the statue, each arm pointing down one of the paths. But where did all these paths go?

"Well? Which path do we take?" Indie asked.

"Hard to say if one is better than the next, hrm, " Bismark said. "Alex, any ideas?"

"None," Alex said. "I can't make out anything useful from the statue. It's just a woman with eight arms...wait." Alex walked up to the base of the statue and examined some of the markings. "Look at this. I can't understand the language, but these symbols are obvious enough. We don't need Silas's expertise to tell what these mean."

He pointed to eight symbols that lined up with the eight arms: a gust of wind, a lightning bolt, a flame, a mountain, a drop of water, an ice crystal, a sun, and a skull. Eight arms, eight paths, and the eight basic elements classically believed to make up the world.

"No coincidences here, " Indie said, studying the sun symbol. "This arm with the sun under it(or is it a pearl, maybe?) is where we just came from. That's the main citadel of the Order of the Pearl, which worships the god of life Altimus, or as he is also known, the Holy Master. I bet these other paths lead to other temples for each of the seven other main gods of classical mythology."

"Of course!" Bismark smiled at the simplicity of it. "I guess the question now is which god do we want to study? It's a crying shame we don't have time to study them all, but I guess that will be a task for our grandchildren, eh? Gahaha!"

"Earth would be my choice," Alex said, with a smile to the obvious choice they knew he would make.

"Wind for me, " Indie said, with equal assurance. "Lightning might be more up my alley though..." He added, after glancing at the lightning symbol. "Maybe some other time, eh?"

"I don't think I even need to say which path I'm going to take," Bismark said last of all. "I'm a man of the sea, and there's only one path here that really interests me. Who knows, I may even meet the real Maiden of the Sea down this path, right?"

They all laughed, and decided to split up, each taking the element most suited to their interests. They may not be able to visit the main city, but hopefully they would find something of interest down these paths. The three wished each other good luck, and set off on their separate ways.


	45. Omens of the Past, 'Elemental Enigmas'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.5 - Elemental Enigmas**

Bismark trudged along his chosen path, looking all around him and trying in vain to capture everything he saw in his mind. If only he had more time to study it all! Life everywhere, and not surprisingly, a small stream had wound its way out of the growth shortly after he had left the central area, and was now happily bubbling along side the stone path he now walked. It was flowing in the same direction was headed. The perfect complement to the path of the water element.

He bent over and looked into the clear stream, seeing his rugged reflection in the water. His handsome, grizzled face stared back at him, and he couldn't help but scoop up a handful of water and drink it. It was the purest, most delicious water he had ever tasted, and it filled him with a strength he could feel flowing through his limbs. It felt like the very life of the forest was now pulsing inside him. Who needed provisions now? With this stream here, he felt he could walk for days along this path and not tire.

After a quarter of an hour of marching along the path, Bismark noticed the stream widening, and becoming faster and stronger as more streams joined it. Another few minutes and the stream was now a moderately sized river. By the time Bismark reached the end of his path, the stream had become a mighty torrent gushing past him with a ferocity he dared not fall into.

What met his eyes at the end of his path was a mighty series of waterfalls that circled a great crater-like chasm within the giant main crater of the island mount. the trees quickly stopped at the edge of the chasm, and Bismark could see a clear blue sky filling his view, with nothing but waterfalls on all sides flowing into the great pit. It seemed all the water on the island flowed into this spot, and he could see that the path now turned into a narrow natural bridge of land that led to a strange sight just ahead of him.

In the very middle of the great chasm, impossibly suspended by a small pedestal of rock was no temple as he had expected, but another statue. He peered down into the chasm against his better judgment, and was amazed at the depth of the abyss. Already being inside a massive crater, he figured he must be far below the mountain island's lofty rim, and this chasm plunged still deeper into the earth, where the waterfalls mixed with exposed pockets of magma and created a veil of steam that blanketed the lower region of the chasm like a thick fog.

This was more Alex's field of study, but Bismark guessed that he could power even the largest city with this much geothermal power. Narsille used such power, but nothing on this scale. Not yet, at least. As far as he understood it, Narsille only tapped into the vents that were near the surface. The city was still primarily a coal-powered city, but that would soon not be enough to meet the ever expanding population and technological advance. Perhaps if they could find a pocket of magma similar to this one deep enough under the city they could truly harness the power of earth, water and fire together. He would have to discuss this with Alex later.

For now, he focused his attention on the statue at the center of the commotion. As he carefully walked across the land bridge, he soon saw a familiar face looking back at him. It was his own Maiden, now carved immaculately into the stone surface instead his ship's prow. The likeness was uncanny, alright. Right down to the outstretched hands, intertwined with palms skyward. He had never seen a more beautiful statue of the Maiden, and stood spellbound for a few moments before stepping closer to further examine his discovery.

When he reached the statue, he could see more of the strange unknown language carved onto the base. He wished he could read it, but for now he would have to simply admire the ancient sculptor's handiwork. He went to put his hands on the smooth surface, but was shocked by some electric force before he could touch it.

Bismark now looked around him and noticed there were stray arcs of lightning all around the area the statue occupied. It seemed to be pulling electricity from the roiling mist below like a lightning rod and storing it, or perhaps dissipating it above. Bismark wasn't sure what the purpose of the statue was, but he sensed it was no idle piece of art. There were definitely strange things to be found on this island, and Bismark wondered what his friends had found at the end of their paths.

Meanwhile, Alex had started on his path of earth. When he had began his path, he was surrounded by forest as usual, but soon he found himself entering a cave and traveling the rest of the way underground in total darkness. He lit one of his portable torches and placed his hands on the cave walls to guide him straight, but quickly pulled away when he felt a deep rhythmic vibration from within the wall. His first though was that it was a heartbeat, but he chuckled to himself at such an idea and put his hand back on the cave wall. The beat seemed to comfort him, and he glided along the underground path, keeping one hand on the wall, a look of serenity on his face.

After a long while of climbing the steepening path, he noticed that the darkness was now fading, and a steady glow that seemed to match the beat within the walls appeared just ahead of him. He kept his hand on the wall, and slowly moved towards the source of the glow. Unless he had been much mistaken, he had been moving steadily upward since entering the cave, so what he saw now could not possibly be what he thought it was. Not at this altitude.

But Alex eyes and the searing heat could not be ignored. He had found himself inside a chamber filled with magma, but not deep underground. He knew he must be inside a mountain, and very high up, but here was a pool of magma like he might find a mile underground. How it could remain hot and liquid at this height was a mystery, and one he intended to solve.

Alex entered the chamber and looked around, putting his torch away in the bright red glow of the magma. The chamber was perfectly round like a large dome, and the magma seemed to flow up through cracks around the base of the room. Instead of cooling and turning into lava like it should without the deep heat and pressure of the earth, it remained liquid and oozed lazily around the center of the dome structure. In fact, it swirled around the center like a whirlpool of water, and seemed to disappear at the very center.

What Alex saw at the center of the swirling magma baffled him. It was a small island of rock, connected to where he was by a precarious bridge of land. Upon the island was a roughly hewn statue of a large man, rippling with muscles so real Alex could almost feel the mighty strength he must have had if he were alive. The man knelt down with his arms intertwined and stretched downward, his cupped hands almost dipping into the molten rock flowing at his feet. He looked as if he were attempting to drink the magma around him. A look of stern concentration was on the man's chiseled face, and Alex swore he could see beads of sweat on his brow.

As he approached the statue, Alex noticed a great amount of condensation in the room, but could not tell where it was coming from. There was no water here in this hellish oven, but a thin cloud of mist hung over the area where statue stood nonetheless. And it was actually a tiny bit cooler than the surrounding air, much to Alex's surprise.

But that surprise was nothing compared to the surprise he received when he attempted to put his hand on the statue's surface. He had assumed the statue would be almost scalding hot, but he jerked his hand back when a sharp chill shot through his arm and clean into his chest. The statue was freezing!

How was this possible? A frozen statue in a place such as this? The magma's presence he could almost explain away through geological trickery, but nothing could explain a frozen rock in the middle of a pool of seething magma. What was inside that statue that could put forth waves of coldness like this? And how long had it been like this? What possible source could be maintaining this magic trick?

Alex knew he was out of his ken here, and just smiled at another humbling mystery the island had placed before him. Surely there was some great purpose to this statue, but one he would never have the time to solve now.

Indie was also now making his way towards a similar site on his path of wind. Like the others, his path had started out in the forest, but the forest gradually began thinning as he headed towards his goal. He noticed a current of wind flowing past him as he moved onward, but paid it little mind as he happily followed the path and smiled at every new creature he spotted in the trees. He felt he could live here forever with the forest creatures and be perfectly content. Maybe he could, in fact. If all this life could survive here while the island rose and sank beneath the waves, why couldn't he? It would be paradise.

One particularly strange creature Indie kept spotting as he made his way through the shrinking forest was a small white shape that flitted in and out of his view. It was apparently as curious of him as he was of it, and every once in a while it would stop and Indie could here a sound like "kupo" bubble out from the branches above. He couldn't help but laugh at the such a strange sound in a place such as this, and attempted to coax the creature out into the open.

At first he tried to entice the creature out with some berries he found on a nearby plant, but it didn't seem interested in food. Next, he tried mimicking the funny sound it made, and a silly sight he felt shouting "Kupo" to no one in particular. But his idea seemed to work, and the creature cautiously replied "Kuu...?" from its hiding place in the foliage.

Indie repeated his sound with varying pitches and intonations, and the creature seemed amused at his attempts at communication, flitting right over him like a large, fat bird and dropping a nut on his head. Indie laughed too, and continued trying to figure this playful entity out.

He had a caught a good look at it when it flew over his head, and it was definitely not something Indie had seen before. It was apparently a clawed mammal of some kind, like a very large, round, white bat, or a flying mole. It had red wings and some kind of red antenna poking out of its large furry head. What caught Indie's eye the most, though was the startling look on the creature's face. It was a look of gleeful surprise, and something else. He would have to stop the creature from bouncing around to get a better look, but he could have sworn there was a spark of intelligence there.

Indie continued his unintelligible conversation with the creature, hoping for a return appearance. Eventually his efforts were rewarded, and the mystery beast slowly crawled out from the brush and walked up to him, as cautious as a wild dog sniffing a piece of strange meat. It was only a couple feet high, no bigger than a child, but the look in it's face was unmistakable to Indie. It was no dumb beast, however cute it appeared.

He knelt down and offered his hand to it, the only sign of peace Indie could think it might understand. It reached out its stubby paw and put it in his hand, the same look of surprise in its face. He couldn't tell what it was thinking from its inscrutable face, but the gesture was apparent enough. He attempted a few more kupos of his own and the creature happily gibbered back at him, but he still couldn't make any sense of it. It seemed friendly and harmless enough, and he thought if there was anything he would like to take back from this island, it was this happy little creature.

"Well now that we're acquainted, I'll have to call you something, won't I? How about...Kumiro? That sounds like something you might call yourself, right? Do you like Kumiro?"

The creature flew up and circled around him, gaily laughing in its strange high voice, and attempted to say the name Indie had given it over and over. It did a passable job, and Indie was impressed. Just how intelligent was this little fellow? Indie had instantly liked the creature, and couldn't bear to leave him behind, not after the breakthroughs he had experienced with it. He knew he would be introducing Captain Bismark to the newest member of his crew soon and smiled at his good fortune.

With the little creature called Kumiro in tow, Indie continued his trek through the forest, now definitely taking notice of the wind blowing past him. At first it was only a slight breeze, barely enough to rattle the leaves on the trees around him, but it increased rapidly the more the forest faded away around him. By the time he had left the forest behind him, the wind was a fierce gale he could barely stand up against, and his poor companion had to hide behind him to stay in place.

Without the trees to break the force of the wind, Indie found continuing almost impossible. He could see ahead of him a wide open valley rising up on either side of the path, and could hear the loud howl of wind as it buffeted against the valley walls. The valley was surprisingly desolate, with no animals and no trees, shrubs, or even grass inside it. The only presence here was the violent wind, channeled and concentrated inside the walls of rock.

It sounded almost mournful, and As Indie attempted to move forward, he felt the wind hit his face in a steadily rising and falling intensity, like the breath from some great beast. He half wondered if there wasn't indeed some monstrous being at the source of the wind, but he knew he must keep going and seek the truth. His companion didn't seem very afraid of where he was being taken, and Indie figured if Kumiro wasn't worried, he shouldn't be either.

Just as the wind was becoming too strong to endure, Indie could feel its direction changing. It began to swirl to his side, and then just as Indie passed what he guessed was the center of the valley, it was practically at his back, driving him forward. Indie imagined he must have passed some central vortex of pressure where the wind eddied and shifted, creating a sort of large, slow-moving whirlwind that encircled the entire valley.

Soon Indie could see the end of the valley, and couldn't help but rush forward towards it as the wind slammed into him from behind. His friend was now in front of him, already guessing his destination and hoping to get out of the wind. Indie was feeling very cold now, the wind biting into him with an unnaturally cold breath. He felt like he was standing in a blizzard now, except without any snow.

Indie stopped and peered forward, hoping to see something at the end of the valley where the cliff walls joined once again. He could make out a large stone statue of a winged man with lean sinewy arms and legs. Indie allowed the wind to carry him further along until he was a few yards away from the monolith. Now he could clearly make out the features of a well-built young man with great bird's wings, gripping a fearsome javelin. There was a wild look on the youth's face, like he was struggling with a mighty storm himself, and his javelin was poised to be thrown like a thunderbolt at anyone who approached him.

Indie admired the workmanship, but was not afraid of being struck by this life-like sky warrior. It was only a statue after all. He stepped closer to the statue, only to feel a tugging at his side. Kumiro was trying to pull him away from the statue, the look on his face somewhat less carefree than before, now that Indie had gotten used to its subtle variations.

"Oh? You don't like this statue, is that right? Don't worry, it can't hurt you. I just want to inspect it a little closer, that's all. You wait right here and don't fly away now, you hear?"

The little creature did as it was told, but it let out a small "puuu..." as it watched Indie walk up to the statue. He placed his hand on the statue to feel its make, and was astonished to feel heat pouring from it. In a moment it had almost burned his hand, and he quickly stepped back from the unusual object. He looked at it again, and slowly moved his hand over various parts of the statue without touching it. Yes, there was an immense amount of heat coming from this seemingly inert hunk of rock. What could be generating it? And shouldn't this bitingly cold wind chill whatever heat source was causing this phenomenon? Nothing could stay this hot in a place like this for long.

Indie was confused and a little unsettled, and took another step back from the statue. He did not know what it was doing here all alone in this valley of the wind, but he could tell it was time to go. Kumiro was growing increasingly anxious, and he did not like the look on the wild face of the stone youth. Its eyes seemed to have shifted right to his own, and Indie wanted as far away from that crazed stare as possible. This was no place for man or beast.

Indie turned and trudged back through the fierce wind, his furry friend right behind him, and quickly and quietly left the lone sentinel to his fiery thoughts, whatever they may be.

As the sun began to set on Phoenix Isle, all three men quietly emerged from their separate paths back at the central area, similar looks on all their faces. They had each experienced something profound, something they could not explain, and a quick glance at each other confirmed that they would each be telling similar tales while they waited for Silas, Jehad, and Levi.

There was much to be said, but no one seemed to be in a talking mood, each deep in their own thoughts. It was Alex who broke the silence, but not with the news they had expected.

"Why, Indie, is that a mogri you have with you? Wherever did you find one of those here?"

You...know what this is?" Indie said, shocked.

"Yes. It's an extremely rare animal that inhabits the mountains around Narsille. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of them, but to find one here, in a place like this? Amazing!"

Indie looked back at his little companion huddled protectively behind him and thought, yes he was an amazing little guy, and this was surely the beginning of a lifelong friendship.


	46. Omens of the Past,'Where Darkness Rules'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.6 - Where Darkness Rules**

Just as the three scientists were setting down their own elemental paths, so too was Jehad now embarking on his own path. This final stretch was the most dangerous, and he knew without the Holy Master's divine protection he would never survive the poison halls of the Nacropolis. He had rushed through the second archway and into the city quickly to avoid further pointless confrontation with his comrades, but now that he was hidden deep in its veil of shadow, he stopped and patiently held the Nacre in front of him once again.

Around Jehad there was total darkness in every direction, but with the Nacre he would be shown the path, and be protected from the mist swirling just beyond the great doors he knew were in front of him, but could not see. This hall of unnatural darkness was the final barrier between the outside world and the Nacropolis. No man could enter the city without first dispelling this darkness and unsealing the Phoenix Gate hidden in the blackness.

He began the next incantation, the light at the center of the fourth pearl slowing growing in intensity as he spoke. With the final word, "Al-Netheria!" the fourth pearl's light exploded outward and engulfed Jehad, causing a visible look of pain on his face. He struggled to remain standing as the aura of white light expanded, but his vision soon clouded and he collapsed. A great creaking sound reverberated through the halls as he fell, the rusty sound of a hundred years of disuse filling his ears as he lost consciousness.

The spiritual strength required to activate the pearls was enormous, and with each successive trial, the amount needed to perform the Nacre's wondrous miracles grew. This trial had proved to be Jehad's breaking point, and he lay in a heap just at the foot of the great Phoenix Gate, the doors now swung wide open. The aura of light still surrounded him, feeding off the very life his body needed to keep him alive. Had he failed? Was this to be the end of his quest? Jehad did not want to die in a place like this, but his final thoughts faded into silence as his body grew weaker with the strain of maintaining the aura.

Levi stormed away from the fools and walked fearlessly past the second gate and into the pitch black area beyond. He did not think about why it was dark here, but perfectly sunny a few steps away, nor did he stop to think about the poison mist Jehad had promised would be his end if he continued. There was only one thought on his mind, and that was the treasures he would surely find in this place. He would survive whatever this place threw at him, just like he always had. Levi was many things, most of them bad, but he was a survivor. And he would endure this place and claim it's secrets as his own, like all the other things he had coveted in his time.

As Levi was about the reach for the portable torch in his pack, a flash of light illuminated a spot just ahead of him. From where he stood, Levi could see it was a man who could only be that priest, covered in an aura of light, and going down fast. Another magic trick, he supposed. The naive babes on Bismark's ship may be impressed by these illusions, but he knew better. There was only one god in this world, and she was made of pure gold.

What really caught Levi's eye were the massive doors that he could see opening by the light of Jehad's aura. How considerate of the priest to open the door, then let Levi have its secrets all to himself! Levi rushed forward and passed Jehad's body without a second glance, his eyes flashing green in the light of the holy aura. The gates swung shut with a mighty crack just as Levi vanished behind them, and Jehad was once again left alone in the dark, his aura now slowly ebbing as the last dregs of his life force were drained to feed the pearl's insatiable hunger.

Now Silas made his way into the lightless hall, his hopeful air rapidly fading as he took stock of his surroundings. How could it be so dark in here? From the outside it was plain there was no roof beyond the second archway, just a third courtyard followed by the main structure of the city. The sun should be shining here just as strongly as it was a few moments ago. Silas looked up and strained his eyes to make out even a glimpse of a ceiling, but could see nothing above him but the same blackness that was all around him. How could he follow anyone in here?

There _was_ something ahead of him, though. It was very faint, but it looked like a body lying on the ground, glowing with a thin film of light. Was that Jehad or Levi? Silas ran forward to help the man, whoever it may be. It was not in his nature to leave someone behind, even if they were as unpleasant as Captain Levi.

When Silas reached the body, he could see it was not Levi, but Jehad. He was not moving, and Silas was worried his suspicions of Levi were correct, and the wretch had attacked Jehad when the poor priest refused to help him. There was nothing he could do now but try and help the man to his feet, and bring him around. He glance around by the fading light for any signs of Levi, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Could he be hiding in the darkness, waiting to ambush him as well? No way to tell, and no time to care. Silas lifted Jehad and turned to carry him back outside to the others.

Before Silas could take a single step, though, the dim light around Jehad brightened, and then flowed towards him, now covering both their forms. Silas gasped as he felt a tug on his heart and mind. It felt like something was pulling his very soul from his body, and he struggling against it, but to no avail. The nacre had Silas in its power just as strongly as it had taken Jehad.

The light steadily increased and then burst outwards once again, this time not stopping until it reached every corner of the room. There was definitely no one else hiding in here. Where could Levi have gone? Behind those giant stone gates? Wherever he was, he wasn't here, and Silas couldn't help but be relieved.

Silas could feel the immense strain the light was putting on his body, and knew that Jehad must have collapsed under its pull. But Silas managed to hold his own and keep himself standing. He must get Jehad out of here, no matter how hard the light pulled at him. Summoning inner reserves of strength, Silas continued onward towards the entrance. He had always been a strong man of strong morals with a will of steel, and the Nacre was now using his indomitable spirit as its own. Poor Jehad was just too timid of a man to handle the Nacre's full power, but Silas carried the burden with grim determination that Jehad's cloistered life had never granted him.

As Silas continued towards the entrance, Jehad began to stir in his arms. As the weight of the light was transferred from his shoulders to Silas's his life force recovered, and soon he was awake and looking at Silas with wide eyes full of surprise, fear, and shame.

"Professor Karn! You mustn't be here! I..I failed, and could not go any further. I was not worthy of the Offering's power, and have let down my entire order, indeed the entire world!"

Silas looked at Jehad calmly and said, "Don't worry Jehad. I've got you, and I'm going to take you back to the others where you can regain your strength. Just relax."

"But... this light...," Jehad said slowly as he realized he could see the surrounding hallway. "Has the Nacre chosen you to bear its power instead of me?"

"It would appear so."

"Impossible! You're not even a member of the Order, it shouldn't be possible for you to wield the power of the Nacre. Oh, what a mess I've made of the ritual!"

Silas remained silent for a moment, then offered his scientific opinion on the matter.

"I think you're the one that did the wielding, and may still be doing it. I just came along at the right moment and grabbed you. I can feel this light tugging at my insides, so it must be feeding off my body's power, but using you as its conduit from that fancy necklace of yours. I don't think your god has abandoned you just yet."

Jehad's eyes brightened as he listened to Silas's explanation. The look of hope quickly turned to a look of horror as Jehad struggled in Silas's firm grip.

"No!" Jehad suddenly shouted. "This is all wrong! You must turn around return to where you found me. We must complete the ritual, together if need be!"

"What? You need to rest, and it's just a littler further to the entrance. We can come back later to finish this ritual if it is truly so important."

Jehad would not be swayed though, and explained the severity of the situation that he now found himself in as calmly as he could muster in his state.

"You do not understand, Professor Karn. This light will not last for long, and once it goes out, the light within its pearl will go out with it, forever. The light is needed to reopen the Phoenix Gate and traverse the deadly pathways of the Nacropolis. If you take me back now, we will never be able to stop the flow of death and stay the Dark Master's cursed hand!"

Jehad had grown almost hysterical as he finished, and Silas had to stop and put the priest down or they would both fall.

"What are you talking about?" Silas asked. "Just what is this ritual, and what's behind those gates?"

Jehad struggled to remain calm as the precious minutes ticked away. He must make this man understand the perilous situation they were now in.

"We must complete the ritual. It is no mere show of faith, but a necessary part of maintaining the Balance of the world." Jehad gathered his thoughts, and told the man of science the sad tale of his Order's past.

"As you know, this was once the homeland of the Order of the Pearl thousands of years ago. Our order was founded here under the direct guidance of the Holy Master in order to protect the world from the ever present threat of darkness and evil. He entrusted us with the task of keeping three holy relics hidden from the rest of the world. Legends say they were crafted by divine hands in times long before the rise of man to house the great evils of the world, and had been passed from one ancient sect to the next. You see, our Order of the Pearl is ancient, but not the oldest or the first group to find the blessing of the Holy Master. There were many Orders before us, their names and histories lost now in the river of time. We had been chosen to continue the tradition of looking after the three holy relics, but it was not our destiny to keep them. No one knows what happened, but we failed in our sacred duty and the holy relics fell into evil hands, and only divine intervention stayed their power from destroying the world. This intervention came at a price, and our homeland was rendered uninhabitable by a thick cloud of poison that flowed from the very heart of our city. The surviving members of our order fled the island and found our way to the land that is now known as Narsille. There we have remained ever since, waiting for the day we can return here once again."

Jehad stopped here for a moment and looked to Silas to see if he was making an impression. The next part of his story would be the most important part, and Silas must understand why he must turn back and fulfill his duty.

"I understand," said Silas, fascinated despite himself at hearing the full tale of the fall of the Phoenician Empire. The Order was notoriously tight-lipped about their homeland, and to be given a full accounting like this was a treasure in and of itself, even if it was tinged with the fancy of gods and magic. "What little records of that time we have show that the core of what you say is the truth. Please, go on. I'm listening."

Jehad continued.

"Shortly after we fled the island, it sunk beneath the sea. It is written that the poison cloud was punishment from the Dark Master, our Holy Master's elemental counter, for failing to protect the holy relics, now forever hidden from our unworthy eyes. We were banished from our paradise, but not without hope. A shining gem known as the Pearl of Order was given to us at this time, and we given a new task: To watch over the Pearl and maintain Balance in the world until the time came that we would be allowed to return home. Our job today is to fulfill the highest precept of that task, keeping the Dark Master's poison from spreading beyond those gates."

Jehad waved his hand feebly at the great Phoenix Gates, now steadfastly shut. A mighty bird was engraved on each of the stone doors, its wings tipped with flames. Silas wondered how much of the story so far was real and how much legend, but he definitely knew something vile was beyond those gates. Every fiber of his being told him this, at least, was the truth.

Silas remained silent, and Jehad resumed his story.

"The Dark Master is not evil, but his dominion is that of death and decay, a fundamental balance to the life-giving power of our Holy Master. Death is inevitable and unstoppable, and once the rot started, nothing could stay its course. We prayed to our master for forgiveness, and soon received our answer. The poison mist filled our city, but stopped at the Phoenix Gates. We were warned that there must be an Offering made here once every hundred years to prove our continued faith or the poison would spread to the rest of the island, and then to the world, not stopping until every living thing on the planet had been extinguished."

"Jehad," Silas interjected, his strong moral side getting the better of him. "This doesn't seem like the benevolent and righteous Holy Master you believe in. Why would he let something like this happen? How could the god of life allow it to be destroyed?"

"It is not our place to question the Holy Master's ways," Jehad said calmly, but quickly. Time was running short. "We were the ones who betrayed his trust and lost the holy relics. This is our penance for our lack of faith. Belief is trust. And the trust must go both ways. The Holy Master trusts us to believe in his power even in times of darkness, and we trust him to deliver us from our sins, and to forgive us, and the world, for its evils. As long as we believe, the world will be safe. Have faith, Professor Karn."

Silas was not a man of faith. But he was a good man, and understood Jehad's words, perhaps even better than the priest did himself. He would trust Jehad's wishes and follow through with the ritual, if Jehad would trust him in protecting both their lives. Silas believed.

"I believe in you Jehad. If you will let me escort you through the city, I'll see that you complete your ritual."

Jehad was filled once more with hope. Perhaps this was meant to be. Maybe the Order had been too protective of its secrets all these years. This was a problem for the entire world, was it not? When he returned to the Elder, he would have much to discuss of the future.


	47. Omens of the Past, 'Light and Dark'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.7 - Light and Dark**

Levi wormed his way through the blurred corridors of the dead city. There was darkness here, but it was not total like the black hallway before. If Levi looked hard at the sky, he could just barely make out the sun shining through a violently purple haze. Around him, he could still make out his surroundings, although only just. Everywhere he looked this haze clung to surfaces like congealed blood and ate away at any life that happened into this world. There was no noise here. No wind, no water, and no sign of life.

Abandoned buildings, rotting wood, spilled belongings and ancient bones - all looked as if they had been swept through a great storm, and all stank of the smell of death. The streets were littered with the tell-tale signs of a hurried escape, and the bones of those who were too late. Levi hurried through the refuse-filled streets and did his best to sweep away the miasma that clutched at him everywhere he went.

The city itself seemed built in a giant circle, with concentric rings of half-crumbling buildings rising from a central pit far below. It looked like a great bowl carved from the earth, filled to the brim with poison. Levi judged that the central depression must be the heart of the city, and knew he would find the most valuable secrets hidden there. He rushed downwards, coughing and sputtering as the poison air entered his body.

"I...will survive...ack!" Levi muttered his mantra to himself, tasting blood in his mouth and spitting it out. This bothersome gas would not be the end of him. He had struggled to make it this far in life, and one more struggle wasn't enough to do him in. He swore and kept running, calling on a feral strength only the most hardened and ill-used wretches were capable of. He must keep moving.

"_Why do you run?"_

A raspy voice echoed inside Levi's mind, and he ignored it. More tricks of this island, or maybe the poison was now entering his brain, eating away at his sanity next. No matter, just keep running. Survive no matter what.

"_I say, if you don't slow down, you'll give yourself a heart attack Jonah."_

Levi kept running, but answered the voice inside his head. Anything to stay conscious and alert.

"So you know my name, eh? Nice trick, but I am going to keep moving until I find what I am looking for."

"_And what are you looking for, hmm? Do you even know anymore?"_

"Of course I do, you miserable ghost, " Levi replied heatedly. Was he arguing with himself, or something else? It was impossible to tell, and there was no time to worry about. Keep talking, keep moving.

"I want whatever secret treasure this island holds. I know it must have something truly magnificent for those Order rats to hide it so well. Now leave me alone."

"_But I am you, I am a part of every living thing. I will never leave you alone Jonah. I will always be a step behind you. And right now, I am all around you, inside you. You haven't long now, Jonah."_

"Enough! I will survive. I always have, and I always will. Go away and leave your mind tricks to someone else."

"_Yes, you always survive, like a rat, don't you Jonah? And how do you keep it up? You climb to safety on the backs of those who would help you. You lie, you cheat, you steal, and you take advantage of everyone and anyone who is foolish enough to pity your wretched lot. Well I am here now, and I pity no mortal. You are alone, and you are in my grasp. Now why don't you stop and rest a spell. I would so much like to chat with a man such as you, Jonah."_

As the voice spoke, Levi felt a strange fatigue come over his mind. Everything was becoming even more blurred than usual. He blinked twice, hard, and struggled to keep moving. There was definitely a temple down at the base of the city's central area, and he was nearly there now. He jumped from one level to the next, stumbling and barely keeping his balance as he half flew, half tumbled down the sloping city's streets.

Now Levi knew he must be losing his grip on reality, for he heard something that could not possibly be here. A low, mournful train whistle was rising up from somewhere, or everywhere, and it was getting closer. A baleful red eye appeared in front of Levi, just at the entrance of the temple structure. It blinked on and off, and grew in size, the train whistle reverberating through the fatal air until it reached a frightful scream. A clacking sound like wheels on a track started coming towards Levi, and despite not seeing any sign of what surely must be a train, Levi leaped aside, feeling a great presence pass him by.

Levi struggled to his feet and tried to keep going, but the poison was growing thicker the closer he got to the temple, and that blazing red eye was now closer and larger than ever, lingering just ahead of him. If these hallucinations kept up, he would surely go insane, if he wasn't already.

"I...will...survive..."

"_Heh, yes, you just might yet, Jonah. But I am coming for you. You can never escape the fate of all mortals. You keep surviving, and I will keep my eye on you. Remember me, Jonah. _

"Go...away," Levi whispered as his throat burned and he lost his voice. He was only a few steps from the temple doors now, but his deep reserves of strength were all but gone now. He felt a hundred years old, and his head throbbed thickly with poison. He clawed his way forward on his hands and knees, forcing his body to obey beyond its limits. Just one more step and he would be at the temple entrance.

His eyes were fogged over with deep violet hue now, and he could see nothing but that damnable red eye, filling his vision. But there was something else, too. A black form began to swirl into shape at the center of the eye. It looked...human. This was surely another hallucination, and Levi grimly crawled forward knowing the temple entrance must be right in front of him. Ignore whatever you see. It is not real.

"_But I am very real, brother."_

That voice! That was not the raspy voice of the mysterious presence before. That was a very familiar voice, one he had not heard in over thirty years, since he was a child of ten. This was a voice far more terrifying than any that could have found its way here. His blind eyes opened wide with fear and he struggled deep in his throat to produce some semblance of sound.

"B...Barab..basssss..." his voice trailed off in a gurgle as blood pooled in his mouth and he at last lost the fight with the venom that now flowed over and into him in torrents. Levi was gone to the world, lost to his own inner nightmares of a past long suppressed and blotted out from memory.

What demons haunted Levi in his poisoned sleep were unknown, but he struggled and silently yelled out in fury and pain, his violet-tinted eyes weeping uncontrollably. Every once in a while he would suddenly break out in a malevolent grin, and laugh like a lunatic, his hoarse throat making the laugh sound like a death cry. Levi was truly lost.

"What should we do with him?"

A voice.

"He did not help me when I needed it, I see no reason to help him. Leave him and let us continue."

Another voice.

"No. I will help him. He is a human being, and maybe having his life saved will improve his disposition a little. I can't help but pity the man. He always looks so wretched, especially now. I can't imagine what that poison must have done to him."

So familiar. That voice...

"If you believe in him, then I will believe in you, Professor Karn. Come. Let us carry him inside the shrine. The Dark Master's influence holds no sway within the shrine's holy walls."

Karn...yes. I remember...Silas Karn...

"I remember..."

"He's awake!"

Levi opened his eyes and looked around him. He could see! And he could talk! Where was he? The afterlife? No, those walls...he must be inside the temple. He had survived! But he was not alone.

"Back with us now, Captain?" Silas said good-naturedly from Levi's side.

"Fools! I made it! You couldn't stop me after all, old man! And you too Barabbas! I will let nothing stop me, not even death itself!" Levi spat out in a single breath, laughing heartily, wisps of poison air visibly spreading from his mouth as it left his system.

"Well you're certainly in a good mood, but we aren't trying to stop you, Levi," Silas said, a little disturbed by the look of glee in Levi's face now. "In fact, we just saved you from that cloud out there. You may want to calm down a bit and regain your bearings. You seem a little...off, still."

"Nonsense! I've never felt more alive." Levi said as he leapt to his feet. "Now Mr. Karn, we need to hurry, yes. There's much to do!"

Levi was definitely acting strangely. His former miserable disposition had been replaced by a frenetic, almost maniacal one. And that blood-flecked grin on his face was terrifying to behold. The violet hue had not gone from his eyes, and he looked every bit the mad man, dredged up from the brink of insanity.

Jehad kept his distance from Levi, afraid of what the poison had undoubtedly done to his mind. Silas was not afraid, though, and remained by the crazed Captain's side. He could feel the feverish heat of Levi's energy radiating off him in waves. It was almost electric.

"Alright then, let's get going." Silas said. "We're nearly at the end of this little quest, and Jehad says the last rites of the ritual are to be performed down at the end of this hallway here, at the heart of the shrine. The light you see around us, Levi, protects us from the cloud of poison. If you stick close to us, you should be safe."

Levi laughed a deep, rich laugh, and replied smartly, "I don't see a damn thing around either of you. More tricks, eh? Well I'm not falling for anything anymore. I made it here without your tricks, and I will find my own path. This place is just bursting with valuable secrets, and I'll be the one to find them! You go do your little dance and leave me be!"

Silas was confused. Surely Levi could see the aura of white light around them? It practically filled the dingy hallway with light, bouncing off the walls all the way down to the doors to the inner sanctum. Levi wouldn't even be able to see them at all if it wasn't for the light. The man was definitely still suffering from the effects of the poison, but there was no point trying to convince him. There was no poison inside here, and surely even in his state he wouldn't be foolish enough to wander back outside. Let the man sate his lust for wealth, Silas was sure the skeletons here wouldn't mind.

"Fine, do as you please Levi," Silas reluctantly said. "Just don't go back outside."

"Fools! There's nothing out there but death," Levi angrily replied. "Everything I want is right within these walls. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a goddess. A Golden Goddess, hahaha!"

Silas and Jehad left their laughing partner to his own devices without another word, and walked down the long downward-slopping hallway to their destinies. Once they completed the ritual, the world would be safe for another hundred years according to the Order, and everyone could go home to their families.

Silas thought about his family, waiting for him back in Narsille. It would not be long now before he could hold his infant son in his arms again and regale him with the tales of his adventures on Phoenix Isle. Kate would be right there by his side, listening just as eagerly to his stories, smiles on both hers and their son's faces. Silas's mind and heart was always with the secrets he unearthed out there in the deserts of the world, patiently waiting to be discovered, but his soul remained at home with his family, and he would always return to them.

Silas looked at Jehad with a strange warmth in his eyes, and nodded. Jehad knew Silas was thinking about home, as was he. Jehad had no family besides the Order, but he had always thought of the Elder as his father, and his fellow Order members as his brothers and sisters. He was sure he would be welcomed home with open arms, voices singing with praise at his great accomplishment. This place may be his religion's homeland, but Narsille would always be where his heart lay.

Both men smiled knowingly and looked straight ahead at the great doors to the inner sanctum. Jehad held up the Nacre to it, and the aura of white light narrowed and shot out ahead of them, bathing the doors in an unearthly light.

The doors were not made of stone like most of the structures on the island, but glowed blue with the tell-tale signs of mythril. How a primitive civilization such as the Phoenicians had managed to fashion doors from a mineral as obstinately hard as mythril Silas couldn't even begin to guess, but he knew something truly important must be behind these doors to require such a sturdy barrier. There were no markings on the door, possibly due to the fact that carving them into the diamond-hard doors would be more effort than it was worth. There were words carved all around the frames, however. Silas could only guess at the language, and fervently wished he had more time to study them in depth.

With an explosion of sound much too large for the simple opening of doors, however strong, the final barrier between the men and their journey's end disappeared. Both mythril doors swung inward by their own force, beckoning the two travelers to this forbidden sanctuary.

The room was as dark as the rest of the shrine, but warm sunlight flowed from high above them in a narrow beam of light. The single lone ray fell directly onto a small dais at the center of the surprisingly small room. Jehad pointed to the platform and said that was where he must go.

This part of the ritual was definitely meant to be a solitary one, for the edifice contained only enough room for one man to stand, or kneel as Jehad was now doing while Silas looked on from the entrance. This place had a feeling of penitence to it, and Silas could just imagine countless other Order devouts kneeling alone in this dark room, barely more than a cell, praying forgiveness for the transgression of their ancestors.

The ritual was both of global importance and intensely personal, requiring all the sins of the past to be concentrated in one person, and offered to the Holy Master Altimus as a show of unwavering faith and trust. Little did either man know the truth of the ritual and that Jehad would need to do more than just pray for forgiveness, he would need to offer his very life, willingly, to Altimus in order to complete the ritual. But would Jehad be willing? And would Silas allow it?

As if to avoid this complication, the great mythril doors suddenly began to move, and before Silas could get out of the way he was swept out of the room by the doors' massive weight. He called out as the opening quickly vanished and the doors were once more sealed shut, no hope of being opened by the mere hands of a mortal. Whether Jehad heard him or not he never knew. One of the last visions he ever had of the poor priest was of him still kneeling in the dark, one lone ray of light shining on his bowed head.


	48. Omens of the Past, 'The Sacrifice'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.8 - The Sacrifice**

"JEHAD!" Silas screamed through the heavy doors. "Jehad, can you hear me? Jehad! Dammit!"

Silas pounded on the doors, knowing there was no way he could get in. He stopped and breathed, thinking things through like the scientist he was.

"Now calm down, Silas. This may just be part of the ritual. Maybe the doors will open once he's done. I need to sit tight and wait, and see what is going to happen."

So Silas did just that. Lighting one of his portable torches, he backed away from the doors and slowly surveyed the ancient language carved around the doors. Might as well do something useful while he waited. He called on all his knowledge of past languages, and found some similarities between these and the ritual language used by the Order today, but it wasn't enough to translate. He thought harder.

The symbols were definitely familiar, but not from the Order's rituals. They reminded him of another civilization halfway around the world. A small isolated island culture far to the west, the people of the Island of the Moon, so called because of its crescent shape. Their language was much simpler than this, but there was no doubt that they were descended from this place. The millennia since their split from this island must have degraded their culture to that of primitive barbarians, and their language along with it.

Silas tried to find common symbols among the much more sophisticated Phoenician script, and his dedicated eye managed to slowly pull a rough meaning from the words.

"Hm...Ritual...Offering...God...these seem to be the same between the two languages, and no surprises that I'd find these words here," Silas quietly said to himself, quickly becoming absorbed in his studies.

"Now this is strange...Sacrifice...Death...Dark...God...Fire...Prophecy...hmmm...and this one could only be some sort of apocalypse...but what does it mean?" Silas kept at the words, trying to combine his the language of the islanders with the ritual language of the Order. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he turned the words over and over in his mind. The meaning was becoming clear now, and Silas didn't like what he was seeing.

"This is no mere ritual...this is a human sacrifice, and there is more going on here than just this one ritual. There's something else in there...something evil. Something that wants out..." Silas was putting the pieces together now, and one thought forced its way through all the others.

"I've got to get Jehad out of there!"

While Silas struggled with the door, Levi struggled to find something of worth among all the rubbish. Now that the others were gone, he had found it was indeed too dark to see inside the temple, and had been forced to light his portable torch. Whether they had a magic light or not he didn't know, but it didn't matter. They were gone and he needed to start searching.

He went from room to room, looking for an idol, a chest, jewels, ancient weapons...anything that could be sold for a huge profit. But there was nothing. Every room was the same - small cells meant for the contemplation of life, not the accumulation of wealth. If only Levi knew that the members of the Order had never been concerned material things, and had taken a strict vow of poverty since time immemorial.

He grew more aggravated with each empty room he rummaged through, his search growing more frantic as the number of rooms dwindled. He would not be denied! Now he was simply venting his anger, throwing the meager contents of the room against the walls, knowing by now that there was nothing of any worth in this trash heap of a temple. Had he come all this way for nothing? The mere thought of it sent him into a rage, screaming at the walls and running down the corridors, looking desperately for anything he could take back.

Then the most obvious thought in the world struck him like a lightning bolt. The inner sanctum where those two fools went! If there was anything of value at all in this place, then that was the only place left to look. He had thought it would just be waste of time to watch their ritual, when he could go off by himself and take what he wanted elsewhere, but now it seemed he must see this ritual for himself, and hopefully take back a part of it.

Levi rushed back down the corridors, wondering what riches could possibly be lurking behind those doors he had seen at the end of the hallway. Those two had better not try and stop him, or else they would see just what happened to those who tried to stop Captain Jonah Levi from getting what he wanted.

Soon, Levi saw Silas running towards him just as he was running towards the hallway with the doors. The man looked scared, and Jehad was nowhere to be seen. Had something unexpected happened? Levi couldn't help but grin at this prospect.

"Captain Levi!" Silas shouted as soon as he saw Levi. "We must hurry! Jehad is trapped behind those doors, and I fear he is going to be killed if we don't do something!"

Levi could care less about the priest, but he did want whatever else might be behind those doors, so he feigned concern and agreed to help.

"Of course. We must get those doors open, at all costs. Let's hurry."

Silas and Levi ran back to the doors, but there was nothing to be done. The doors were just too heavy and hard. Even if they had explosives they would not be able to break them down. Both men did everything they could to try and open them, although for very different reasons. In the end, they were forced to give up. There was just nothing to be done except wait, and hope the words around the doors were wrong. The men sat silently and waited, not talking to each other, absorbed in their own very different trains of thought.

After almost an hour, a great shaking started and the two jumped up, expecting something to happen now. The shaking continued for a few more moments, then suddenly dropped off, leaving the shrine as deathly silent as it had been before.

"What was that?" Silas asked, fearing something terrible had happened behind the doors.

Before Levi could say anything, the doors began to vibrate, and then burst open. The two men didn't waste any time asking questions now, and ran into the room, not knowing what to expect.

What they saw was not the same room Silas had seen before. There was no beam of sunlight coming down through the ceiling now, and there was no sense of peaceful contemplation. The room was filled with a fierce red glow, and was unbelievably hot. At the center where Jehad had knelt was now a gaping hole, filled with magma and belching flames all the way to the ceiling. Jehad stood before it, calmly, his back to the two men.

"Jehad!" Silas called out, thanking whatever gods there were that he was still alive. "Get away from there! This ritual is meant as a sacrifice, and you are the offering!"

Jehad did not turn around, he simply stood at the mouth of the flaming hole, gazing into it intensely. Without moving at all, he uttered the last thing Silas would ever hear him say.

"I know."

And with those words, he let himself fall forward into the flames, and was lost.

"NO!" Silas yelled, trying to reach him before he fell. Silas managed to just barely miss Jehad as he fell, grabbing at his hand. He had succeeded in grabbing something, but Jehad apparently did not want to be saved, and let his hand slip from Silas's as he disappeared into the wall of fire.

Silas fell back from the rising flames, overcome by the insane heat that exploded from the hole just as Jehad disappeared. The explosion threw Silas back against the wall, burning his hands and face. What had that poor fool done? Did he choose to die for his beliefs after all? Somehow, Silas couldn't see the priest, so full of hope for the future, _his_ future, just throw it all away. And yet, it seemed that was what Jehad had chosen to do in the end. Silas wept for the fate the man had been given.

Levi had not paid much attention to the man before the fire. His only goal was to search the room for some sacred object while the others were occupied. He circled the room, looking for something, anything of value. Again there was nothing! How could such a place have nothing?

But there was something else here, hidden well at the back of the room. As Levi's greedy fingers swept the walls, he finally found what he had been looking for. Inside a small compartment was a scroll, just waiting for someone to pick it up. There was more of the unknown language written on it, but surely it must be an important artifact to the Order or it would not be hidden in such a place as this.

Little did Levi know that he could read the language on that scroll if he chose to. But his poison-filled eyes were forever lost to the light, and just as he could not see the holy aura around Silas and Jehad, so too was he unable to read the sacred words of God written on the scroll. It did not matter to Levi, though. The scroll wasn't much, but it was surely something the Order would pay a fortune to have, and so he clutched it tight in his fist, laughing at his good luck.

Silas was now struggling to his feet, trying to figure out what to do next. He suddenly felt a warmth in his hand, different from the heat from the flames. Looking down, he saw that he was holding a necklace of pearls, the very necklace Jehad had worn. Was this...the Nacre? Silas was not sure why it was in his hands now, but he felt its light pulsing through him once again. Four of the eight pearls still glowed with an inner light, like before.

Suddenly a voice spoke up inside Silas's head, holding him in thrall as if hypnotized.

"_Holder of my wisdom, you must flee this place. The offering has been corrupted, and the Vengeful One will soon rise, bathing this island in flames. These pearls hold the only hope of sealing him away once more, but now is not the time. Only when this area is at peace again should the pearls find their way back here. You must keep them safe until then. Now go!"_

Silas snapped back into reality, his head throbbing at the power of the voice he had heard. There was no question in his mind. That voice was the Truth, and he no choice but to obey it.

"Levi, we have to get out of here, now! This place is going to be destroyed any moment!" Silas yelled to Levi, still laughing over his find.

"What?" Levi said angrily at first, but quickly regained his composure. "Yes, of course. Shame about the priest, but nothing we can do now, right? Let's leave before we meet the same fate as him."

As if to accentuate the words Silas had heard, the flames increased in size, forcing the hole in the ground to crack and crumble away as it grew. The two men fled, the hole quickly expanding to fill the entire room. Silas made one last look back but could only see a hell of magma bubbling where the room's floor used to be, and walls of flame where there were walls of stone before. It was swirling and bursting with the ferocity of an erupting volcano, and Silas had a very strong suspicion that was exactly what was happening.

Silas and Levi ran towards the entrance to the shrine, smoke and sulfur-laden fumes now filling the temple with a noxious presence as deadly as the purple mist outside. Coughing and gagging, Silas burst out of the shrine and into the poison air, not sure how he or Levi would survive either cloud of death. But the Nacre in his hands was still hungrily feeding off Silas's inner energy, and it once again covered him in a white light that drove off both the poison air of the Nacropolis and the volcanic smoke that was issuing from the growing hole that was engulfing the shrine. Even if Levi refused to believe in its power, he was still blessed by its protection, unworthy though he was.

The two men made a mad dash for the upper echelons of the Nacropolis, the earth quaking violently beneath them as they climbed. The central shrine soon collapsed in on itself and went down under the flames in a great explosion of lava and stone, feeding the great furnace even further. Cracks were now spreading out from the central depression, and soon the Nacropolis would follow the shrine into the mouth of the volcano, newly awakened after more millennia than all the histories of the world could account for. This beast had slept for ages untold, and it was hungry. It would feast and feast on the very land that created it, and would devour itself in its own fury. The two mortals caught in its rage were nothing but specks of dust, to be consumed with the rest.


	49. Omens of the Past,'The Ritual Completed'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.9 - The Ritual Completed**

As the sun set for one final time on Phoenix Isle, Bismark and his friends sat by the many-armed statue, telling their stories by firelight as they waited for Silas, Jehad, and Levi to return. They had lost track of time, happily exchanging eerily similar stories about strange statues in strange places when they heard a great explosion of sound from the direction of the Nacropolis.

"What the hell was that?" Bismark shouted, rising to his feet.

"It came from the direction of the Nacropolis...," Alex said, a note of concern in his voice. "You don't think Silas was caught in that blast, do you?"

Indie jumped to his and was already gathering his things. "No time to think, we gotta make sure they're safe. C'mon! Kumiro, you stay here, understand?"

The mogri apparently did, and stayed behind as the three men ran down the path that led to the Nacropolis, hoping the worst hadn't befallen their friend. The ground was shaking everywhere now, and groans could be heard as the island began to fall apart under the force of the eruption. The three men knew their time was short, but could not leave a friend behind. They would die for Silas, and knew he would do the same for them.

The men reached the long path with the two sets of archways just in time to see a huge pillar of fire and rock shoot up from the area beyond the arches. It reached high into the sky, sending ash and dust falling like snow all over the island. This was the last gasp of the Nacropolis, consumed in one fiery gulp by the ever growing volcano.

"Damn, are we too late?" Bismark cried. "No one could have survived that, and neither will we if we don't get out of here now!"

"Wait a moment, something is coming out of the archways now." Alex said, his eyes looking straight ahead instead of at the cloud of smoke now covering the sky above. "It looks like...yes! It's Silas, and he has Levi with him. I don't see Jehad, though."

Silas and Levi were running for all they were worth, the deadly cauldron right behind them. Something else was following them as well, and soon the men realized that the Nacropolis hadn't been completely wiped out. The poison mist was now expanding without check, gushing out from the archway along with the smoke and ash from the eruption.

The mist hit the three men just as Silas and Levi reached them, and for one brief moment they felt the taint of the Dark Master touch them. The white light surrounding Silas soon grew to encompass the entire group, and they fled back towards the area with the many-armed statue without a word.

Once the men reached the central area with the statue, they stopped, not sure what to do next. None of the paths led to the ships, as far as they knew, and only Jehad knew the path back.

"Where is Jehad?" Bismark spoke up, trying to catch his breath. "What happened back there?"

Silas quickly explained the situation in as few words as possible, then remembered the pearls. If Jehad had used them to find their way here...

"Everyone calm down, I am going to try and find the path back to the ships." Silas said as calmly as he could, the smoke and poison now filling the area, visibly wilting all the once-glorious life that had inhabited the island.

Try as he might, he could not get the pearls to do any more than shed their light around him and his companions. He tried speaking in the language of the Order, then in the language of the natives from the Island of the Moon, but the pearls remained as they were. He was no priest, and he did not know how to pray to the Holy Master. Only Jehad knew the words that could have saved them all, and he was gone.

"I'm sorry everyone, but it looks like we've gone as far as we can. If only Jehad hadn't thrown his life away..." Silas bit back the anger and sadness at losing the gentle priest, knowing there was nothing to do now but leave their fates in the hands of higher powers.

"Kupo! Kupopo...po! Ku! Ku!"

"What the devil is that?" Levi shouted over the cacophony of noise now surrounding them as island died.

Indie's face lit up at the sounds of his little friend, and exclaimed, "Kumiro! Are you saying you know how to get out of here? You know where the rest of our people are? But how?"

The mogri simply waved his hands and pulled at Indie's pant leg, urging them towards the now browning undergrowth.

"Are we really going to follow this thing right into that poisoned forest?" Levi said, a rare look of fear on his face as remembered his harrowing experience with the purple mist.

"My friend here knows this forest better than any of us do, and I get the feeling he knows where our ships are at." Indie said. "I say we trust him."

"I agree," Silas spoke up. "We don't have time to try anything else. Unless someone's got a better suggestion, I say we follow this little creature. If Indie trusts it, so do I."

"So do I," Alex said.

"Same here," Bismark agreed.

"Fine," Levi muttered. "You're all crazy, but we're dead anyways, so I might as well see what this beast can do."

Kumiro didn't even let Levi finish his grumbling before it had dragged Indie through the brush, with the others right behind him. With the mogri deftly avoiding branches and vines, it hopped ahead of the others, impatiently waving at them as they chopped their way in the direction it led. The forest was all but dead now, and they had little trouble making a path throw the feeble, blackening foliage. The scientist felt a pang of sadness and outrage that such a wondrous place should be destroyed so mercilessly, but such was the power of nature. It could create unparalleled beauty, and could take it away with equal magnificence.

Soon the dead forest thinned out, and the men found themselves back in the harbor, the poison mist now spreading even this far. Soon the entire island would be covered in it, and what then? Would it cover the world like in the legends? Right now the only though on the men's minds was getting away from this disaster. The world could wait.

All three ships were still there, but the Order ship was already preparing to leave. Silas wondered if the men on board knew that Jehad would not be coming back. He had a few words for them if he could make it out of here alive.

Bismark began yelling orders to his patiently waiting crew as soon as he hit the shoreline, not wasting any time with explanations. He leapt onto the Maiden and waved the rest of the group on board. Kumiro hesitated at the front of the ship as the others boarded, not sure what it was or where it was going.

"Don't worry, little friend," Indie said, and reached his hand out from the ship's deck. The mogri took one last look at his home, his pom-pom drooping, then fluttered up to Indie's hand and joined the rest of the men on the deck of the ship.

Levi split off from the group without a word and manned his own ship, barking out harsh words to his miserable-looking and panic-stricken crew. They immediately got to work steering the ship out of the harbor. Even now Levi's influence on his crew was more fearsome than the cataclysm that was happening to the island.

Another terrific explosion rocked the island, and the three ships were knocked about as they struggled to steer out of the harbor. Huge cracks were creeping out of the forest now, and the lava from the volcano's crater could be seen glowing through the trees, burning everything up as it covered the island.

Levi's ship was the first ship to leave the harbor, followed quickly by the Order ship. Bismark's ship was the last, and being the only ship without a motor, it was having trouble getting out of the harbor in time.

"We'll never make it out of here before the island is destroyed!" Bismark shouted over the roar of the eruption. "Indie, I don't suppose the critter of yours has another trick up its sleeve?"

Indie looked at his little companion, but it looked as terrified as the rest of them, and was not offering any miracle solutions.

Silas tried to get the pearls to work again, hoping he might randomly trigger their powers, but he was pushing his limited vocabulary of the strange language to its limits, and time was almost out.

Bismark could see the looks on his friends faces, and knew there was nothing left to do but grimly wait and see what happened. He looked at the image of the Maiden on his ship's prow, and remembered how the statue, now probably destroyed, bore the same gentle look. He was not a praying man, but he now looked at the trembling waters around the ship and silently hoped Elia would come and save them from this disaster, like legends say she was wont to do in times of need.

"Elia, if you hear my voice, we need you now, more than ever."

These words were not spoken by Bismark, but by Silas, who had a strange look on his face as he gazed into the pearls.

"Silas, what are you..."

Bismark's voice was cut off as the aura of light that had continued to surround Silas grew to surround the entire ship. With a shudder the ship began to move away from the crumbling island interior. and flowed with growing speed through the chasm that had allowed them entrance to the island. It never rocked or swayed, and moved perfectly forward through the chasm, steadier than if Bismark had steered her himself.

"Silas...what are you doing?" Bismark asked incredulously.

"I'm not sure," Silas said with effort, the pearls using his own life to power the ship away from the island. "I couldn't think of anything to say in the proper language, so I just spoke them normally. I'm not sure how it worked, but I guess some gods aren't as picky as others."

He couldn't help but laugh at the idea, and others smiled with relief as the ship sped away from the island, now cloaked in flames, smoke, and poison and slowly shrinking under the water.

"I don't think the island will be rising from these ashes," Alex spoke up unexpectedly. "Phoenix Island has appeared for the last time, I'm afraid. A catastrophic eruption like this will utterly destroy the land, and break it to a thousand pieces. Nothing could save it now."

True to Alex's assessment, the island gave out great cries of pain as it split in half, then into four pieces, then more. Soon all that could be seen was a great plume of fire lighting up the night sky. Smoke and ash filled the sky, and the poison mist could also be seen, slowly oozing out from the smoke. As the Maiden put a safe distance between it and the dying island, the glow of the flames continued to rise from the ocean, long after the island had completely sunk from view.

The other two ships could be seen now, speeding away from the island towards Bariki, the closest safe port to recover from the disaster. The Maiden followed them, still working under the power of Silas's own strength. But how long could he support this miracle?

Soon the ships had arrived in Bariki, looking like they come straight from the bowels of hell. All three ships were covered in black soot, and the men on the Maiden spared no time leaping into the blessedly calm waters to wash themselves off.

As the crew of the Order's ship disembarked a bit more formally, Silas was waiting for them, a look of intense anger on his face.

"So! What do you have to say for yourselves? You knew right from the start that Jehad was going to his death, and you allowed it!"

The Order members said nothing, but looked at each other with heads lowered in shame. One of them managed to speak up after a moment, feeling something should be said.

"Our orders were to deliver the chosen priest and the Offering to the island, and wait to make sure the ceremony was a success." Here he stopped, a look of dread on his face. When he continued, he spoke with a tremble in his voice. "But we never saw the signs that the Elder told us to expect. We waited as long as we felt we could, but when the island became unsafe, we knew we must flee. We are sorry for deceiving you, but this is the way it has been done for thousands of years. All of us have been sworn to absolute secrecy for the rest of our lives, and now we must ask you to keep the secret as well."

Silas was enraged now, and did not spare any of the men of the Order. "Secret! You cowards don't have to worry about that anymore. The island was destroyed, and the ritual was a failure! Jehad died for nothing, no thanks to you! You're lucky I don't drown each and every one of you! Get out my sight!"

Silas stormed off, leaving the stunned Order members standing on the sand in front of their ship. They were not just stunned at Silas's temper, but at the words he had spoke. If the ritual really had been a failure, then what would happen now? The ritual had been completed successfully for as far back as recorded history allowed, and no one knew just what great evil now would surface because of their failure. Each and every Order member felt the weight of their failure on their souls, and wondered if this is what the original Order members felt as they fled their homeland so many centuries ago.

Silas had recovered himself after his outburst, and was now fuming quietly at the closest thing Bariki had to a bar. There were many other crew members from all three ships here now, enjoying a cold drink after their nightmarish journey. Spirits were high and the men felt more alive now than they had ever been.

Levi was happily laughing to himself in a corner of the bar, waving the scroll he had found in the face of someone from the Order's ship. He would enjoy haggling with them for as high a price as possible. But this man was nobody, and would not even try and guess what the scroll might be worth. He said only the High Elder could judge its worth, and that even then the Order was not rich, and could not offer the price he was asking for it. Levi would see about that. He stuffed the scroll back into his coat and went to sit by himself and enjoy a well earned drink.

Silas looked over at Levi, wondering what it was he was waving around. The man had been obsessed with finding treasure there, and it looked like he got his wish. Good for him, Silas thought unhappily. At least somebody got something out of this journey, even if it was a wretch like Levi.

Silas was miserable, and kept looking down at the pearls, wondering if there was anything more he could have done to save Jehad. The man had seemed so calm...could he really have just given up like that? And if he did offer himself, then why had the ritual failed? Silas struggled for answers, but none came. These matters were beyond his field of expertise, indeed beyond anything he had ever experienced, and he just sighed and tried to drink away his feelings.

Slowly the men emptied from the bar and went back to their ships to sleep for night. Silas was the last to leave, helped by Bismark and Alex. He was far too drunk to care about anything now, and his friends left him in his quarters to the sleep he surely needed.

The next day brought a new terror the crew and Barikian people. As the Order members had feared, the poison mist had kept spreading from the island, and a terrified group of fisherman returned from the days work early shouting about a cloud of death that had been seen moving towards the island.

The entire island was now in an uproar, fearing that these outsiders had finally managed to destroy their peaceful way of life. They demanded that the scientists solve this problem with their technology, but the Maiden's crew was as helpless as they were. The Order's crew said the poison cloud was punishment from their god for failing to complete the ritual, and this only caused the islanders to hate the foreigners even more.

Levi had attempted to sneak off at the first word of the cloud's appearance, but Silas caught him and flew into a rage that he himself could not explain. This man had been nothing but the devil himself since they first met him, and Silas was not going to let him get away with it this time.

"Levi! You are going to abandon these people and us just like you abandoned Jehad! You are a miserable coward, and I cannot let you leave here without helping us evacuate. We need all three ships to carry off everyone to safety."

Levi was unfazed, and just laughed his half-mad laugh. "And who are you to order me? I do as I please, and this island has worn out its welcome for me. I am leaving, and I'm not taking a single one of these rats with me."

"No!" Silas yelled, running after the man as he walked towards his ship. "You will not leave this island!"

Silas caught up to Levi and spun him around, grabbing at his coat like a wild animal. Levi was shocked at the man's audacity, and struggled to free himself. But Silas was like a demon, and would not let go. He grabbed at Levi and tried to pull him back to the shore where the Bismark and the others, and well as most of the island watched in stunned silence.

"Let. Go. Of. Me!" Levi rasped, trying in vain to shove this crazy man off him. As the two men fought, the scroll slipped from Levi's coat and landed on the sand. Silas saw it and knew in an instant he had found a weak point. He quickly bent down and snatched the scroll before Levi could realize what had happened.

"Hah!" Silas exclaimed triumphantly, letting go of Levi so abruptly that the other man fell backwards onto the beach in a puff of sand. "Now we'll see if you'll help me. You seemed to think this scroll worth something, yes? Well you won't get it back until everyone on this island is safe and sound, do you hear me? It's mine now!"

Silas had hit Levi's weak spot alright. That scroll was his, and he would not let anyone take it from him. Levi stormed up to Silas to give him the fight of his life, but Silas was already running back to the beach, where the rest of the island watched expectantly.

Levi ran up to the crowd and demanded they stop that thief. But no one listened to him. They had heard the argument, and knew the measure of this man well enough. They were all on Silas's side, and no one lifted a finger to stop him as he rejoined his friends. They did stop Levi, however, and created a human wall to prevent him from reaching the men of the Maiden. Levi let out a howl of frustration and stormed back to his ship, defeated for the moment.

"Well that was a fine piece of work, Silas," Indie said once everyone was back on the Maiden, chuckling despite himself. "A rather unorthodox method of getting help, but I guess when dealing with rats you have to think like a rat."

Bismark and Alex agreed. "I'm just glad that piece of scum finally got some comeuppance," Bismark said with a grim smile on his face.

"I did what I had to do," Silas said gruffly. "Levi has gotten away with far too much on this voyage, and this was the last straw."

"Oh no, I'm not complaining." Indie said. "It worked, and now we've got to hurry and get these people out of here. You don't think you could use that little lightshow of yours to protect us again?"

"I don't know," Silas said uncertainly. "There were four pearls glowing on this necklace before, and now the fourth one is very dim, almost as dark as the others. I think the more you use it, the more the lights on these pearls fade. I used a lot a lot of power doing what I did, and I don't know if the necklace would be enough to save everyone on the island. Besides, it uses my own life force to activate it, and I don't know if I could survive something of that magnitude."

The group was stunned. "It's feeding off of you?" Indie said, mortified. "Why didn't you tell us? We can't have you sacrificing yourself like Jehad did. There has to be another way."

"What about that scroll Levi was so keen on? What's it got to do with this?" Alex said.

"Hm, I honestly hadn't even thought of it," Silas replied. "I guess it is worth looking at, right?"

Silas took the scroll from out of his pocket and the four looked at it. At first, they couldn't make heads or tales of the writing, but as soon as the scroll was completely unfurled, a voice thundered in the head from across time and space, bringing all four men to their knees.

_"When the Balance of Eight meets its end beyond Time_

_The Three will be taken and paid in full for their Crime._

_The Sands of Time shall never be stilled,_

_The Force that was drained must be refilled._

_In the Mouth of Fire a fated Pact will be made,_

_The Vengeful Master will come to the one called Sade._

_In the Desert of Death where life dares not bloom,_

_The Child of the Sands will meet his Doom._

_Before the Eye of the storm that does not sleep,_

_The Elder of the Seas will sink into the Deep._

_The Path of the Three will converge at the Source,_

_Where the Vessels of Fate will open the Door._

_A Great Power will be bestowed to the chosen few,_

_And Chaos shall reign until the Balance is renewed._

_Time will pass and the Great War for Power will rage,_

_Only the Splitting of Power will save the world for an age._

_But The River of Time has one final Bend, _

_Upon the backs of the Three the world will End._

_Hope cannot die and Promises may keep,_

_The Dreaming Awake shall return to their Sleep."_

The four men cringed in pain as the voice of God echoed through every recess of their mortal minds. It looked like they were being electrocuted as they fell to the deck in shock. No sound came from their lips, but their faces contorted in horror as the minds were bent to the breaking point.

Crew members that had witnessed the event quickly rushed to their sides and tried to help the men. One of them had the foresight to take the scroll and throw it to the other side of the ship. As soon as the scroll was free from their clenched fists, the men began to recover, a look of disbelief on their faces. Silas was the first to recover and struggled to speak.

"W-what...was that? It sounded like...like the voice from before. Only much stronger...much purer. Vengeful Master...I wonder if that is the same as the Vengeful One the voice mentioned before?"

Alex had now recovered enough from the experience to speak.

"I don't know what that was, but it didn't sound good. I have never felt anything like that before, but somehow, I know it is the absolute truth. I don't even doubt it one bit, whatever it all means."

"Everyone, I know what we have to do," Silas said once all of them had recovered. "When I heard that voice, I saw something else too. We need to go back to the island. Now."

Bismark eyes widened with surprise. "Go back? To where? The island sank, remember? It's gone."

"No," Silas continued. "The island is gone, but the evil it contained is still there. The poison cloud. We have to go back to the source to stop it. And only I can do it. I have to finish what Jehad started. It has to be me now."

The others were not happy at this. "You're crazy," Alex said heatedly. "You saw what happened to Jehad, and now you want to go and do exactly what he did. If it didn't work when Jehad tried, what makes you think it will work now?"

"I just know," Silas said calmly. He had made up his mind. "We have to leave now. We have to sail to where the island was and complete the ritual. The shrine was unimportant. It's the location that matters. The Nacre will guide me there, and show me what to do."

"You're sounding just like Jehad did," Bismark said tiredly. "I've had just about enough of this magic business for one lifetime. But...," Bismark looked right at Silas, and saw the look in his eyes and knew. "I trust you Silas. If you say we have to go, then I'll raise anchors right now and we'll end this. Together."

"Right," Indie chimed in. The others agreed too, and soon the ship was on its way once more to the Phoenix Island.

But the Maiden of the Sea had one extra crew member on this voyage. While the events of the scroll played out on deck, Levi had snuck back off his ship and boarded the Maiden. He would have what was is, and he would have his revenge on them for making him look the fool. He would pay those islanders back as well, and had already given the inhuman orders to his swarthy crew. No one would escape the wrath of Captain Jonah Levi on this day.


	50. Omens of the Past, 'Destiny's Call'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.10 - Destiny's Call**

The Maiden of the Sea had quietly left the island behind, leaving the evacuation to the Order's crew. Whether Levi's crew also helped or not would hopefully not matter if everything went as Silas predicted. The mist was spreading out in all directions from where the Phoenix Isle use to be, and if the Maiden was unable to stop it, there would be no time to return to Bariki before the mist reached it and destroyed every living thing on it. The men of the Maiden trusted Silas, but they still were taking a terrible risk in coming back here.

"Are you sure of this, Silas?" Alex asked quietly, all four men standing on deck watching the mist creep towards them on the horizon. "What about your family?"

Silas knew the risks he was taking. "I know. I miss them terribly, and if I don't come back from this, they'll probably never forgive me. But this is something beyond words, Alex. As soon as I heard that voice in my head, I knew what I had to do. I can't forget my family, but I can't ignore the fate of the whole planet." Silas grinned. "Besides, how often do you get a chance to save the world?"

"We all know the risk here," Bismark said. "What about you Alex? You have a family too. Silas isn't the only one in danger here. None of us may come back from this, and yet we're all here. Let's just do what we came to do and go home, all of us."

They all nodded and peered out over the waters, watching as the poison cloud drifted towards them. It circled the ship and grasped at the four men on deck, but was repelled by the power of the Nacre. Silas had not needed to say anything this time, and it appeared the initial incantations made by Jehad was still working to stave off the poison and guide them towards the location of the sunken island. Soon the mist had surrounded the ship and moved on, towards Bariki. They would not have much time before it hit the defenseless island now.

As the ship approached the former location of Phoenix Isle, everyone looked out to see if there was anything left to land on. The only thing that could be seen was the thick purple cloud that covered the water in all directions. A faint red glow still rose up from far below the surface of the water, a sign that the island was still destroying itself, right down to the bottom of the ocean.

It was up to Silas now to point the way to the source of the mist. He held out the Nacre and let its light wash over the clouded waters. It's guiding light pulled on Silas's soul, and he talked Bismark towards the deceptively calm center of the glowing waters. This was the spot. This is where Jehad met his end, and where the ritual must be finished.

He thought hard about the voice, hoping it would guide him through the rest of the ritual, but his mind was a blank, and he still could not figure out how to make the Nacre do the miracles like Jehad had. Had he been wrong?

"_My voice shall guide you..."_

Silas felt a shock run down his spine as he heard the voice again. But there was no more. Silas thought hard, and realized what he had to do.

"Bismark, give me that scroll. It is the key."

Bismark didn't want to have anything to do with that horrible talking scroll again, but the look in Silas's face brooked no argument.

"Aye, aye," Bismark said. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Yes. Now hand me the scroll. It's power combined with the Nacre will show me the way."

Bismark handed the scroll to Silas, careful not to look at its contents for fear of being overtaken by its power again. He hoped Silas knew what he was doing.

Silas took the scroll in one hand and the Nacre in the other, letting the scroll unfurl itself. He still remembered the painful reaction he had to the scroll before, but he must concentrate this time and use its power to direct the Nacre. The words of God were needed to activate the power of the pearls, and those very words were written on the scroll. For the brief time Silas looked upon its contents, he was one with the mind of God, and would be able to say what he needed to say. But could he remain sane long enough to finish the ritual? He pushed his fears aside and let his gaze fall on the forbidden text.

The moment he looked at the scroll, he felt the familiar rush of knowledge into his brain, and almost dropped both relics into the ocean as the pain swept over him. He could once again feel his mind warping and straining, trying to contain the infinite wisdom of the Holy Master. He must remain focused. Concentrated only on the ritual at hand. All else is meaningless now.

He began to speak in an unknown tongue, softly at first, but as the pain increased he raised his voice to a mighty yell. He finished the incantation, yelling "Al-Shinjuo!" and collapsed onto the deck of the ship, writhing in agony as the pain overwhelmed him.

Bismark, Alex and Indie ran to help him, but were pushed back by a white blast of light from the Nacre. It surrounded Silas and forced him back to his feet, then raised him off the deck of the ship, growing so bright that it even dwarfed the glow that protected the ship from the poison. A roar of wind was now filling the calm waters, the mist mixing with the light in a violent reaction of holy and unholy power that tore the very air around it

The light continued to flare outwards, destroying any mist it came into contact with, but it was not enough. Not nearly enough. Silas's power was quickly fading as the immense power of the Nacre drained him of his life. The powerful aura of light began to flicker as Silas grew weaker, and Silas's body slowly descended back down to the ships deck.

"It's not working!" Bismark yelled over the wind. "It's gonna kill him if we don't stop it!"

"What can we do?" Indie said, fear creeping into his voice. This was far beyond the realm of science now. This was magic, plain and simple.

"We're gonna save our friend, that's what!" Bismark yelled defiantly. "He's not going to sacrifice himself like dog out here! We'll grab him and yank that scroll out of his hand. Alex! Indie! C'mon!"

The three men recovered themselves and lunged at Silas, hoping to bring him out of whatever trance the scroll had put him in. As soon as the touched him, though, the light grabbed hold of them as well, and greedily began using their strong souls for its own. The men were helpless before the power of the scroll and Nacre combined.

With all four strong men's life forces feeding the light, it burst outwards like a small sun, blinding everyone on deck, scientists and crew alike. The light devoured the poison cloud with such force that the calm waters now formed might waves that crashed and buffeted the ship mercilessly. The roar of wind was now so loud that no other sound could be heard, and all the members of the ship were struck deaf and blind at the power before them.

All save for one. Levi had seen his opportunity, and while the other fools were blinded, his poison-stained eyes could still see everything with perfect clarity. He didn't question this fortuitous coincidence, he just took advantage of it, as was his way in all things.

He silently crept up the four men, now all hovering a few feet off the deck of the ship, a look of agony in all their faces. Like taking candy from a baby, thought Levi. He reached for the scroll in Silas's hand and wrapped his filthy hands around it, ready to yank it clean from Silas's grasp. But it would not budge. Levi felt a horrible power wash over him, but it passed over and through him without joining him to the power of the four. This dark man was an affront to the holy power of the light, and it could not make use of even an ounce of his will, as powerful as it was.

Levi felt the power shoot through him and then back out again, never letting go of the scroll in Silas's hand. He pulled with every bit of energy he could summon, refusing to let his treasure slip away. The wind was slashing at him from all sides as the holy power attempted to cleanse the poison in him, but it was no use. This poison was too deep, even for the cleansing light of the Nacre. He laughed at the feeble light that had no sway over him and continued to pull for all he was worth.

Soon he felt Silas's iron grip slipping, and the four men began to sink back to the deck of the ship. Levi guessed that whatever was happening would soon be over, and he hadn't much time. He gave one final tug that would have dislocated a man's arm under normal circumstances, and the scroll flew from Silas's and Levi's hands, falling to the deck. Levi lost his balance and fell backwards, taking Silas with him.

The light was still unbelievably bright, but it was quickly fading, and the four men were coming to their senses without the scroll maddening their thoughts. They rubbed their eyes and looked around. There was none of that violet haze to be seen, and the sky was actually sunny and clear. The wind had died down to a gentle breeze, and everything seemed to be back to normal.

Bismark quickly turned around to find Silas, who had fallen away from the group towards the end. What he saw made his blood run cold with fear, anger, and hate. Levi was standing at the prow of the ship, Silas in front of him. He had a cruel-looking knife held against Silas's neck, and an evil grin on his face. He was looking right at Bismark, enjoying the stupid look of surprise on the man's face.

"Levi!" Bismark roared. "What are you doing here? Get the _hell_ off my ship!"

"Now, now, Captain," Levi said with false sweetness. "I have something you want, and you have something I want. That scroll by your feet. Give it to me. _Now._" He held the knife tighter against Silas's neck to punctuate his threat, drawing a thin stream of blood.

"You...you demon!" Indie cried. "How dare you! All this for a piece of paper? You would kill a man for such a thing?"

"I've killed for less," Levi said without emotion. "If you want your friend to live, you'll give me that scroll."

"Mobius..don't do it," Silas struggled from under Levi's knife. "That scroll has terrible power. He mustn't take it."

"Gahh! You foul...rotten..." Bismark could barely speak through his hatred of the man before him. What was he supposed to do? He would not let this man harm his friend, but he knew the power the scroll possessed just as surely as Silas did. But he could not abandon Silas...

"Dammit all...Levi, you win. I'll give you the scroll," Bismark said through clenched teeth. This man was the devil.

"Now that's more like it," Levi grinned. "See? We're all friends here. Just give me that piece of paper, and we can all go home peacefully. My ship should be arriving shortly to pick me up, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Shut up and take it," Bismark said quietly. "And get your scurvy ass off my ship before I throw you off it."

Bismark picked up the scroll and walked over Levi slowly. There was gleam in his eye not quite sane, and something was not right about the way he measured his steps towards the evil Levi. Levi was too fixated on the scroll to notice, but Alex saw at once that Bismark was up to something. Something dangerous, even suicidal.

"Mobius...," Alex whispered to him as he passed. "What are you..."

Bismark shot Alex a glance that would have sent any of his crew running below decks. There was definitely something crazed in that stare. Bismark was going to do something foolish, but ridiculously brave, and Alex was afraid for his friend. Both his friends.

"Here," Bismark said through his teeth, his eyes never leaving Levi's eyes.

Levi reached for the scroll with his free hand hungrily, not even registering the malicious look in Bismark's eyes. The second Levi touched the scroll Bismark pulled back, stretching the scroll back out and exposing its surface. His other hand reached for the Nacre still in Silas's hand and grabbed the necklace from him before he could react.

"Bismark what are you..," was all Silas could say before the white light exploded from the Nacre and all three men were struck dumb with pain. Silas was thrown backwards from the other two, dumbfounded at what Bismark had just done.

Bismark's hatred and anger were fueling the Nacre now, and he would finish off this monster even if it killed him. The power of the Nacre was not to be used for evil purposes, however, and soon the white light changed to violent red. The fifrth pearl's light had faded to nothing after the cleansing of the poison, it's task completed, and now the sixth pearl was glowing a deep red the same color as the flames that had taken Jehad.

Levi may have been immune to the light of the fifth pearl, but not this new light. It seared his skin and burned his eyes. He howled out in pain, clawing at Bismark as he tried to get away from the burning light.

Bismark felt the vengeful light of the pearl as well, but it was his light to command, and he grinned malevolently and bore it with the power of a man accustomed to pain. His eyes glowed a deep red as he stared right into Levi's terrified face, pushing the light onto him with greater and greater pressure. He would save his friend and rid the world of this beast, even if he had to take him down to hell himself. Vengeance filled his mind with a red haze that blotted all other thought out.

Silas watched horrified as the two men gripped each other, the blood-red light now flowing off them both in crimson waves. The heat...the heat was just like before, in the shrine. Silas thought sadly of Jehad standing resolutely before the flames, and knew what he had to do.

"Not again..." He said quietly to himself, mustering up his courage, then again much louder.

"NEVER AGAIN!"

Silas jumped between the two men and grabbed the Nacre. He felt the pull of the voice of God again but his mind was too determined to let it break him this time. There was another voice he could hear in the distance, seemingly from far under the waters, and yet right in front of him. It was ancient and evil, and sounded like the voice of a burned out corpse. It was laughing.

Silas ignored both voices and uttered a single word in the unknown tongue. It was a powerful word, and its effects were immediately apparent. The flaming light flared out uncontrollably, bursting from the two Captains in a red hot rage. The two men had their hands at each other's faces, Bismark's hand clawing at Levi's left eye and Levi clawing at Bismark's right. The light blazed out of their free eyes like a lighthouse, both men uttering a cry of pain and letting go of each other. Bismark let the scroll and Nacre drop to the deck, and Levi's knife clattered behind them.

The light suddenly cut off as the two men toppled apart, each grabbing their eye in pain. The evil glare hovered a moment in the space between them, the burst like a firework and shot off in all directions, vanishing into the distance. The angry red glow of the fifth pearl quietly faded back to the peaceful white it was before. It was slightly dimmer than before, but only slightly.

Bismark quickly came to his senses and ripped the sleeve off his jacket, wrapping it around his head to cover his eye as he got to his feet.. He walked over to Levi's prostrate form and kicked him violently. The man coughed and continued groaning in pain, blood oozing from his eye socket. He struggled to his feet, but Bismark readied another kick to his head to knock him down.

"S-stop..," Silas said weakly, grabbing at Bismark's leg from the ground where he lay. "Enough...Mobius..."

Bismark stopped as if shot, his mind clearing at the sound of Silas's voice. He blinked and looked around him. Silas was on the ground, barely breathing, and Alex, Indie and his crew were all huddled at the other side of the deck, fear in all their faces at what they had seen their captain do. Bismark felt a deep shame at his actions, and stepped away from Levi in horror.

Levi staggered to his feet, coughing up blood that mixed with the blood already streaming down his face from his eye. "You filth...you haven't won..my ship," Levi coughed violently, "My ship...is here. Ha.." Levi tried to laugh, but he only coughed violently and could say no more until the fit passed him.

As if waiting for this cue, a barrage of cannon fire rang from behind the Maiden, and soon the ship was under fire from the Golden Goddess. The projectiles fell all around the ship, but none struck. The crew was not foolish enough to risk hitting their Captain. This was just a diversion to allow Levi to escape.

Levi had planned for this moment, although it was a bit more dire than he had hoped. He stumbled over to the side of the ship and tried to jump off into the water, but Bismark was too fast for him. The larger and stronger Bismark tackled Levi like a rag doll, and both went tumbling off the side of the ship.

"Captain!" Alex yelled from the side of the ship, but it was too late. Both men were in the water, still fighting each other, and the Golden Goddess was quickly coming along side their ship to pick up their stranded captain.

Bismark struggled to get Levi under control so he could bring him back on board, but the wiry man was stronger than he looked, and managed to free himself, laughing the entire time. He swam as fast as he could ahead of the Maiden, and began yelling. He knew the perfect thing for this thorn in his side.

"You up there!" Levi yelled to his ship. "Ram the Maiden! Crush their precious captain against his own hull!"

The crew of Levi's ship set about this murderous order like any other order their captain gave them, and increased the speed of the ship, ceasing their fire for the moment. In a few moments Bismark would be caught between the ships and crushed to death.

Bismark saw the ship coming and tried his best to swim out of the way, but he knew he would never outrun the ship. Levi was a few yards ahead of him, still laughing. Bismark cursed his rash actions, and kept trying to swim towards Levi. If he could get close enough to Levi, the ship may think twice about crushing him for fear of crushing their captain as well.

Bismark did not count on the depths of Levi's wrath, though, and even as the mad man saw Bismark swimming towards him, he maintained his orders and demanded the ship to stay its course.

"Ram him! Ram him!" was all Levi could say between fits of lunatic laughter, and even as his own ship's shadow passed over him, he still kept repeating his orders. Fearful of their own captain's anger, or perhaps eager to have a chance to be rid of him once and for all, the crew of the Golden Goddess headed their captain's suicidal commands, and maintained their direction.

Bismark reached Levi just as the Golden Goddess came into contact with the Maiden. The two ships collided with a sickening crunch that sent wood and metal flying. But the Golden Goddess did not stop, and kept on driving against the Maiden's battered side.

Bismark saw the ship pass over him and tried his best to dive below it. Levi seemed to come to his senses when he saw Bismark dive, and quickly dived after him. It was no use, though, and the bottom of Levi's ship struck Bismark as he tried to dodge it, pushing him towards his own ship and trapping his leg between them. Levi did escape either, and as he swam beside Bismark in an attempt to keep him from escaping, his own ship clipped his side and trapped his leg just like Bismark's.

Both men opened their mouths to scream, but only swallowed a mouthful of salt water. The Maiden had managed to push itself away from Golden Goddess now, and was slowly putting distance between them. It's left side was scarred from the collision, but the Golden Goddess had remarkably little damage, probably due to the shear amount of metal lining its hulls. Bismark and Levi surfaced and each man swam towards his own ship as best he could, their crippled legs hindering their progress.

Alex watched carefully for any sign of his captain, and was ready to throw a life preserver to him as soon as he surfaced. Levi's men likewise snatched their beaten captain from the waters. Bismark grasped Alex in gratitude as he hobbled onto deck, but Levi simply swatted at his men as he threw himself onto his deck.

"Damn imbeciles!" Levi could be heard yelling from his ship. "I told you to crush him! Blast it all! Get us out of here while we still have a ship to sail." Levi looked over his shoulder at the Maiden one final time, a look of victory on his scarred face, and a knowing grin on his face. He may not have gotten his treasure back, but had gotten his revenge.

"That bastard," Bismark winced through his pain. "He thinks he's won, doesn't he?" He'll get his someday, and I sure hope I'm the one to do it."

"Enough of that, Captain," Alex said from his side. "There's been enough violence today. We need to get you to a doctor fast. Your leg is crushed and your eye is..well I don't even know what happened to your eye, but we've got to get you back to Bariki."

"Silas isn't looking too hot, either," Indie said, kneeling over Silas. "He's barely conscious, and he's running a fever. Heck, he's more than feverish, he's positively on fire!"

"Silas?" Bismark said, turning himself over and crawling to his friend. "What have you done to yourself, Silas?"

Silas was lying on his back, his eyes now a deep red, his chest heaving with each troubled breath. There was an unmistakable aura of heat coming off him, much worse than a mere fever. But his mouth was set in a confident smile, and a look of peace was on his face when he spoke to Bismark.

"Mobius...I've channeled the flames of the Vengeful One into my own body. It was the only way to save you from destroying yourself, and possibly the entire ship."

"What?" Bismark said, a sinking feeling growing inside him. "What Vengeful One? What do we need to do to help you?

Silas continued smiling his serene smile, and said weakly, "Nothing. It is done, and I am going to die. I am sorry, Captain."

"No! I didn't come this far to just give up on you now. We saved you once before, we can save you again. Where's that necklace?" Bismark glanced around nervously, trying to find the miraculous necklace.

Silas put his hand on Bismark's searching hand calmly, the heat burning Bismark. The captain did not take his hand away, though, and grasped his friend's hand tightly, knowing this was likely to be the last time he would be able to do so.

"Mobius, listen to me, " Silas struggled, his voice growing weaker as his body grew hotter. "Take the Nacre and protect it. It must return to this place when the time is right and be tossed into the sea. Only then can this ritual be finished properly and the next one begun."

Bismark listened, but did not understand. "What? How am I supposed to know when? And what next ritual? Are you saying there's more to do? Silas!"

Silas had begun to fade away, but he was still smiling. "You'll know when, don't ask me how I know, but I do. Promise me Mobius."

Bismark fought back tears as he watch his friend grow weaker. His hand was so hot he could barely stand it, but he kept his grip firm. He would not let go.

"I promise, old friend."

"Good," Silas said after a moment. "I have one more favor to ask. My son...he will be without a father now. Could you...look after him for me? I couldn't think of anyone better to be his godfather than you, Mobius. Just...make sure he's safe, that's all..."

"Of course, I'll treat him like he was my own. I can't say I'm really father material, but I'll give it the old seadog spirit."

"Thank you. That's all I ask. Just make...sure...Dune...is..."

But Silas could not finish the rest, and he finally let go. The heat flared up for a moment, then rose from his body like a cloud and was blown away by the wind.

"Oh, Silas..." Indie said through his tears. No one else spoke, and Bismark still held onto his friend's hand, now growing cold. Silas had given his life after all, but it was not for some ritual, it was for his friend. That was what Silas believed in at the end, and it proved more powerful than any force of nature.

The three men stood by their friend's body for the entire trip back to Bariki, not saying a word to anyone. The crew left them alone, running the ship without Bismark or Alex like the well-trained group of sailors they were. Soon they had arrived back at the quiet island, but something was wrong. The island was too quiet. Bismark looked away from Silas, his vigil broken by the intense feeling of wrongness he felt as they neared the island. What he saw would have broken his heart if Silas's death hadn't already.

There were no ships in the harbor, only flaming wreckages. The docks had been destroyed, and the entire village razed to the ground. The bodies of dozens of people lined the shoreline, blood soaking the water all the way to the Maiden. Bariki had been slaughtered.

"Levi..." Bismark said through trembling lips, his old rage firing up within him. "Levi did this..."

"The monster..." Alex said. "How could even he be so cruel?"

Indie was shocked beyond words, Kumiro hovering beside him. The gentle creature was uttering a soft, high "puuuu..." as it felt the death around it in its own strange way. This felt just like his homeland as it had sunk, taking with it all the lives of his friends and family.

"Even the women and children...," Indie finally managed to say as the ship neared what was left of the harbor and the bodies came into view.

"Did...did anyone escape?" Alex tried to stammer. "The Order ship...surely it escaped..."

Now Bismark spoke up again, his anger swallowed as he remembered Silas's words of peace.

"There's only one thing to do now. We give these people a proper burial, then return to Narsille. The Order of the Pearl has a lot to answer for this day. They brought this curse onto all of us."

"I agree," Indie said, his eyes never leaving the dead bodies on the shore. "These people didn't need to die. Not like this. Levi will pay for this someday, if there is any justice at all in this world."

Alex spoke up, "If what we have seen here today is any indication, then there are definitely higher powers at work in this world, and Levi will answer for his crimes, if not to us, then to them." Alex looked up at the sky, wondering what these "gods" made of the senseless genocide below.

The men of the Maiden went about their bitter work long through the day and into the night, not resting once, to sleep or to eat. It was an ungodly way to end their mission, and the vision of Bariki's shoreline would haunt their dreams for the rest of their lives. This tragedy could never be repeated. Too much had been lost.

The sins of the past had swept over this place, washing away the hopes and dreams of its people. They could never have known the dark destiny that had awaited them on these shores. But the land does not forget the blood spilled here, and never again would another living thing inhabit this land, in honor of the penance that had been paid here this day. The Balance must be maintained, in life and in death.


	51. Omens of the Past, 'The Power of Faith'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past**

* * *

**Part 6.11 - The Power of Faith**

Deep beneath Narsille, the High Elder of the Order waited in his study, hoping and dreading news of the ritual's completion. The priests sent to accompany Jehad had returned and would soon give their report. He would praise Altimus for another successful ritual, and mourn the loss of his favorite pupil.

The old man sat on the floor of his plain study, quietly meditating. He felt every bit the ninety-six years he had lived on this earth, and wanted nothing more to pass the reigns onto his successor. the problem was that he had no successor now. Jehad had more than a student of the Order, he had been the Elder's first choice as the next High Elder. The Order would be a worse place for his loss, even if it was the Order's own rules that had taken him from them. He sighed and wondered what the future held for his people.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the priests from the mission. The three young men entered with haggard faces and fearful looks in their eyes. The Elder knew at once things had not gone as planned. He slowly stood up, his joints creaking as he lifted himself up from his cross-legged position.

"What news do you bring, my sons?"

No one spoke at first, but after several quick glances the priest in the middle cleared his throat uncomfortably. The news was not going to be good.

"Father, forgive us, but the ritual...was not successful," the priest said slowly, each word sticking in his mouth.

The High Elder said nothing, but looked from one man to the next, wondering just how the ritual could have failed, when it had succeeded so many times before. Why now? Why him? He sighed and waved the man to continue, not letting the dread growing in his heart show before his followers.

"Brother Jehad arrived at the island with us, but at some point that is unknown to us failed in his duties. The light that should have signaled the completion of the ritual never came, and we were forced to flee. The island was destroyed, and I fear our homeland may be no more."

The priest stopped here, a look of great loss in his face. The dream of all Order members was to someday return to the paradise of the homeland, blessed by the Holy Master himself. To see it destroyed was to see heaven itself fall.

The High Elder understood their feelings, but knew there were worse repercussions to the failure of the ritual.

"I see. Then all hope is lost. The Dark Master's vileness will spread unchecked now, and soon even our home here within the walls of Narsille will not be safe. I am sorry, my sons."

There was a strange look in the men's eyes now, and the Elder could see that they were not quite finished. He bade them continue with what they had to say.

"Father...we believe the poison to be no more, even though the ritual was not completed as ordained."

"What?" Now the Elder was surprised, and made no pains to hide it. Could all the ancient writings have been wrong? Was there no need for the ritual after all? He couldn't help but feel a flush of anger at the senseless loss of so many good lives.

"Father, it was the scientists who asked to be present for the ceremony. We believe they somehow managed to stop the poison flow."

"Impossible!" The Elder would not stand for such claims. Men of science had no place interfering in the ways of the Order. More of their technological heresy, no doubt. And to have his own followers believe in them was intolerable.

"Explain yourselves," he said coldly.

"We do not know how, Father," the middle priest said uncertainly. "We were evacuating the people from the landing point as the poison cloud approached, and witnessed the signal light, as you said it would appear. It could only have come from the vessel of the scientists. They had left before us in that direction, although we could not guess why they were heading back into the cloud. After the signal, there was no sign of the poison anywhere. It sounds impossible to believe, but they somehow completed the ritual where Jehad had failed."

The Elder remained silent, mulling over these new developments. What did this mean when men not of the Order were finishing their business? Were they no longer in favor with the Holy Master? Was science the new power of this world, and was this their Master's way of showing it? He suddenly felt much older, and asked to be left alone to contemplate the strange series of events.

The Elder spent a long and sleepless night attempting to come to grips with what he had heard. Something had gone terribly wrong on this voyage, and he somehow felt responsible. Had he let his people down? The world had been saved, yes, but not by the Order of the Pearl. Maybe there would be no successor when he was gone. Maybe the time of gods and legends was coming to an end. He only wished he could have left this mortal plane before he had seen such dark days.

The next day brought new surprises to the humbled Elder. The scientists who had stolen the Order's greatest moment had arrived in Narsille and requested - no, demanded - an audience with him. Such impertinence! First they mock the most time-honored traditions of his people, and now they come to gloat, perhaps ask for a reward? He would deal with them swiftly.

The Elder agreed to meet them in his study, and sent word to open to the gates above. In a moment two strong men appeared before him, each smelling of the grease and sweat of machines. How had he been fooled into thinking them men of high morals? The looks on their faces betokened respect and unmistakable kindness, however, and he wondered anew what brought them here. These were not the faces of men seeking a reward. These were the faces of men seeking answers.

"High Elder," the shorter, bearded man spoke. "My name is Ramses Indra and this is my fellow scientist, Alex Figaro. I apologize for disturbing you, but we have vitally important news to bring to you. Please, will you listen to us?"

The Elder couldn't help but say yes to the man. He seemed like a decent man, but the stink of science was about him, and the old mans fears of the end of his Order echoed in his mind. He offered the men a seat and let them speak.

Indie told the High Elder all the events that had taken place on the island, and afterwards, not leaving out any of the gruesome details, from Jehad's death, to Levi's treachery, to the loss of their friend and the annihilation of the people of Bariki. He finished by showing the Elder the scroll, carefully folded and sealed to prevent prying eyes from seeking knowledge they were unprepared to find.

The High Elder was stunned at the revelations the man brought. He did not want to believe things could have gone so horribly wrong, or that more lives had been lost because of their ritual, but the scroll in the man's hands was all the proof he needed. This was indeed a remarkable discovery. The Elder took the scroll from them and began to unwrap it, but Indie placed his hand on the Elder's, shaking his head.

"Do not open that here, High Elder. It contains a power that cannot be controlled, and you would be wise to keep it somewhere safe."

"I do not understand," the Elder said. "What is this scroll?"

"I am not a man of faith, High Elder," Indie answered. "But it appears this is a prophecy detailing events to come. Or possibly events that have already begun. It is written vaguely, but it seems clear that dark times are coming."

"A prophecy, you say?" The Elder wondered if it was indeed the Crystalline Prophecy spoken of in legend. Surely not...

"The words on that paper have a strange power to them." Indie continued. "Once you see then, you can't unsee them. They embed themselves in your mind, and you have no doubt they are the absolute truth. Whatever is written there will happen, of that I can assure you. We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on this subject."

"I must look at the scroll and study its contents to be sure," again the High Elder reached to open the scroll, and again Indie stopped him.

"You mustn't open it here, I assure you. We can help you to use it, but not here, in this small room. It is something that no one should see but you."

"It is that powerful?"

"Yes."

"Then I can think of only one place to take it. Follow me."

The Elder got to his feet as fast as his body allowed him, eager to see what strange relic these men had brought back. He guided them to the sacred hall, where only the highest ranked Order members were permitted. It felt strange letting outsiders into the hall, but these were strange times. He could think of no place safer to house the scroll than here, alongside the Pearl of Order.

The men entered the hall, the outsides gasping at the grandeur before them. This was nothing like the small cells they had seen elsewhere, or the Elder's sparse study. This was an architectural masterpiece to rival anything the city of Narsille above could produce. The hall extended for a hundred feet or more, great pillars lining its walls and chandeliers of crystal hanging from its ceiling. A vibrant red carpet stretched from the entrance down the length of the hall, leading to a giant winged statue at the center of the hall

They quietly walked down the hall, passing the glowing blue statue made of mythril that could only be a statue of the Holy Master, his four stone wings of light and darkness bringing Balance to the world. It reminded them strongly of the statues they had seen on the island, and they wondered what secrets this god of stone held. Indie was tempted to touch it, but knew now was not the time or place.

As the men approached the end of the hall, they saw the great glowing Pearl of Order resting comfortably on a pedestal, its light a familiar sight to the Indie and Alex. They had seen more than they had ever wanted of pearls on this fateful mission. The Elder seeing their eyes fall on the Pearl, told them its purpose.

"That is the Pearl of Order you see. Its light proves what you say. As long as it sheds pure white light, the world is at peace, and the Balance is maintained. If you had been lying, or of the ritual had truly failed, then it would be as black as night, and we would not be here right now. But as you can see, all is well..."

The Elder walked up to the Pearl and stood behind it, gazing at the two men intently.

"Now, I think, it is time for you to show me the contents of the scroll." The two men started, but the Elder waved them off. "Do not fear, I will call upon the power of the Holy Master to give me the strength to endure his wisdom. Please, hand me the scroll."

Indie cautiously walked up to the small flight of stairs that lead the Pearl's resting place, and passed the scroll over the Pearl to the High Elder. Indie couldn't help but look down at the Pearl as he stood before it. It seemed to pull him towards it, in fact it seemed to pull the entire room towards it. Indie blinked hard and stepped back away from the giant gemstone, rubbing his head with a slightly dazed look on his face. This place had an intoxicating effect on people, and he would very much like to leave as soon as possible.

The Elder took the scroll and slowly opened it, his one hand on the scroll and the other on the Pearl. He whispered more words of the language known only to him and unrolled the scroll. Indie and Alex braced for the inevitable reaction, ready to catch him and snatch the scroll as soon as he began to react to it...but nothing happened. The Elder calmly read the scroll as he would any other peace of paper. After a few tense minutes he rolled the scroll back up and placed it within his robes.

"I see...yes...this is indeed the Crystalline Prophecy spoken of in legend. I thank you two for returning it here. It has found its rightful home, now that our island is gone."

Now Alex spoke up for the first time since entering the Order's stronghold. "So you know what it is. Do you know what it means?"

The Elder chose his words carefully, not wanting to say more than the men should know. "In short, it is a Prophecy spoken of in our most ancient texts, one though to be only a myth. It speaks of many things, but most importantly of a coming war that will end this world and begin a new one." the Elder saw the looks of fear on the men's faces and laid his hand back on the Pearl.

"Do not worry. All things must end, and this end may simply be a changing of the old ways into the new. I have foreseen such a change, and am afraid it bodes better for your kind than mine. I will keep this scroll here with the Pearl, where it belongs. Besides the Pearl, this is the most valuable and powerful artifact of the Order, and I will not let it fall into unworthy hands."

Alex spoke up again, a hard note of anger in his voice now. "It has already fallen into unworthy hands, and a great many lives were lost because of it. Their blood is on your hands, High Elder."

The Elder seemed to grow much older before the eyes, his form slumped and his head bowed. He knew their grief and understood their position. They had lost much on this mission.

"I do not ask forgiveness for the ways of my Order. I knew Jehad was going to his death, and hated myself for letting him go, for he was like a son to me, but I could not have predicted the terrible consequences that would follow. I am sorry for your loss, and pray for the souls of those who gave their lives for our cause, innocent of our past sins though they may have been. Please, remember their sacrifice with honor, not with vengeance. That is the way to destruction."

Alex remember Silas's words of peace and could not help but be softened. He knew the Elder was right, and hating the Order would solve nothing. He calmed his nerves and spoke.

"High Elder, our friend would have agreed with you. He was of the finest men I ever knew, and would have fit right in with your way of life. He forgave your ways, and in fact embraced them in the end, and I must follow his example the best I can. We leave you in peace."

Indie nodded his head in agreement, and the Elder smiled. He supposed he had not made a bad judgment in allowing these men to join Jehad after all. If these were the hands the new world would be given into, maybe he could stand to watch his Order fade into memory. They had a long and prosperous history, and would now most likely follow the countless forgotten religions before them, to be replaced with the new. It was the way of Balance. Old and new, life and death, and now, faith and science. The Holy Master was truly a god of many surprises.

"Go in peace, my sons," the Elder said solemnly, guiding the two worthy souls back to their world above.

Two months had passed since the voyage of the Maiden to Phoenix Isle, and upon the dead shores of Bariki a man now arrived, seeming to rise from the ocean like a ghost. His deep red hair flowed away from his head like flames, and he was cloaked in a robe of pure black, his feet and hands bare. His skin was pale and covered in old burns, and his eyes were the same color as his hair. He smiled at the silent beach and nodded, seeming to approve of the islands current destitution. He turned and walked back into the waves, finding no need to remain there a moment longer than necessary. There was much work to be done now.

The man next appeared in Narsille, mysterious knowing all the Order's passwords and secret paths. He silently roamed the Order's halls, a smile fixed on his pale face. His black robes stood out from the white robes of the other members, but they were still unmistakable robes of the Order. He received many quizzical stares, but no one dared bother him. The heat he gave off as he passed by was enough to warn away any questions.

The High Elder was sitting in his study once more, his mind on the various matters of the Order when the man in black stepped through his door as if it was his own room. The Elder stood up in surprise, looking over this crimson haired stranger that dared to barge in unannounced.

"Who are you?"

"I am your replacement, Father."

"How dare you! I am the High Elder of the Order of the Pearl, and you will state your business here immediately!"

"You are my business, Father. Surely you recognize the rightful successor to your position?"

The Elder did not recognize this man at all, but as he looked into the mans horrible eyes, the pale face blurred and the colored, briefly regaining the youth and health it had lost. The eyes and hair remained a bloody red, but the Elder was horrified to see a face he thought gone forever staring back at him.

"J-jehad? Is that you?"

"I am so glad you recognize the man you sent to die an ignoble death, Father. It is this face I want you to see as you fade from this world."

The Elder stepped away from the dark man, the strange heat surrounding him growing hotter as he spoke. Surely this was not Jehad?

"My son, forgive me..."

The man's cold stare did not flicker once as he stepped closer to the Elder, backing him into a corner.

"I am no longer a son of man. I am and shall forever be Sade."

The man known as Sade reached for the Elder's throat and gripped him with one hand, lifting him off the ground. Where his hand held the old man tight, smoke began to stream out. The High Elder tried to cry out, but his throat was on fire, and he could only twist and contort his face into a horrible grimace of pain and anguish.

"Good-bye, Father. Do not fear, for you Order is in good hands now. _These_ hands."

The hateful man let out a slow, deep laugh and increased the pressure on the Elder's throat, visible flames now pouring over the old man. Tears streamed down the dying man's face, only to be quenched by the fires at his neck. In a moment the flames had completely covered his body, and the man suffered no more.

Sade let the Elder's body drop to the floor, now only a charred corpse. His face returned to its former ghastly appearance, and he calmly smoothed back his red hair and sat at the old man's desk. A look of satisfaction spread across his face. One more step on his long journey completed, so many more to go. He sighed and looked around the former Elder's study, taking in his new abode. There would be many changes to the Order in the coming years, but for now he relaxed and reveled in his new position of power.

"Home, sweet home."


	52. Confluence, 'Reigns of Power'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

_Many of the older cultures and religions of the world were lost with the War of the Magi a thousand years ago, and along with them valuable clues as to what our ancestors believed in, what gods they worshipped, how they lived their lives. Undoubtedly, the Thamasans are our greatest allies in the quest to understand the way the people of the past lived. They and they alone have maintained an unbroken record of history from before the War of the Magi, and in this new era of comraderie, have opened up their stores of knowledge to the world. Their homeland of Crescent Island has also yielded great surprises and even greater questions to perplex my aging mind. As I stand on this dry soil and stare at the lone mountain remaining on the island, I feel as if I am gazing into the very center of the universe..._

-From _My Travels_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 14 AF

* * *

**Part 7.1 - Reigns of Power**

In the years since Sade came to power, many changes took place within the Order of the Pearl. As Sade and the people he hand picked for his close advisors solidified power, theorder turned from a sect dedicated to peace and the preservation of the natural balance to one only concerned with its own secrecy. In the past, the public looked upon the Order as a relatively common place religious group, whose practices were harmless. Now, with their doors closed to the light, the public did not know what to think of them. The aura of mystery was exactly what Sade wanted, and the type of people that were attracted to this mystery were exactly the type of people Sade wanted. No holy men here, only those with a thirst for knowledge and an interest in the darker side of the workings of the world.

Many of the old functions and rituals of the Order had been abandoned, at least in public. There were still those who were loyal to the old ways, and they tended to keep to themselves, only identified by their traditional white robes. Following Sade's example, more and more followers donned black robes with each passing year, either out of true respect for the fearsome, yet compelling man, or out of fear of being ostracized, or worse. Those who still wore the white robes were either too old and stubborn to consider changing their ways, or knew what the Order once was, and tried in their own way to keep its history alive. Sade did not pay these followers much attention in public, but there were fewer and fewer of them each year, and more than one would suddenly vanish from their quarters, never to be seen again.

Now, as the thirtieth year of Sade's reign came to a close, the leader of the Order of the Pearl felt he was in the proper position of power to put his grand plans into the next phase of action. A rather fortuitous event had happened in the past year that finally put him in control of all the resources he needed. A promising initiate into the Order had finally completed her grueling ten year path through the inner secrets of the Order's new rituals - a mixture of the old ways that were convenient to Sade's ideals, and the new practices he had slowly introduced over the years. Now she stood before him a fully realized priestess of the Order, completely in accord with his own plans, as far as he chose to reveal it to any mortal being. That ambitious initiate was Eva Dehr, head of the Committee for the Preservation of Peace.

Sade had carefully planted one of his order inside the Committee to make contact with the newly elected President Dehr. He was a lesser member, but one who's cowardice and obvious, but hopeless ambition made him easy to manipulate. That man was Adam Cruz. Through his own pitiful schemings for power he had risen just high enough to be in regular contact with the President, and was a trusted advisor in his own right now. Sade used this contact to make his move, and the rest was easy. He knew a follower of power such as Dehr would hungrily lap up his promises of greater power if she joined his Order. All he had to do was ask.

With the head of the most powerful organization in Narsille under his thumb, Sade knew he could finally put into motion all his long sought after plans of vengeance. Dehr only knew of the power he promised to her, and indeed she would find tremendous power through his guidance. But only Sade knew the truth behind that power, and what arcane tasks would need to be done in order to achieve it. So Dehr deferred to him in all matters regarding the "Crystalline Prophecy", and it was through Sade's watchful eye that the son of Karn was sent into the desert to face his destiny.

And it was through Sade that either Captain Levi or Captain Bismark would be lost to the Goddess. For even Sade did not know everything. The prophecy was vague in parts, and Sade's dark master guided him intermittently, and his words were usually only slightly less cryptic than the prophecy itself. Sade's interviews with the Vengeful Master were never pleasant experiences, and he sought him only when absolutely necessary. But everything had worked out so far, and Sade knew if something was wrong he would have felt it in his soul. The Flames of Dis acted like a compass, threatening to burn his very essence to nothing if he strayed too far from their Master's course. Dune had been chosen by the crystal and his own dark master, and Levi lost, but not truly gone. Now the time was at hand to enact the final part of his plans, and achieve the power needed to exact his revenge on the world that had lied to him, then thrown him away.

Sade sat in the familiar meeting room of the Committee headquarters, along with President Dehr and Under Secretary Adam Cruz. They were discussing the final phase of their plans involving Dune, and preparing for a very important, yet very dangerous guest.

"So, you are sure the second crystal has been claimed?" Dehr asked from her seat at the large, but mostly empty table that filled the meeting room.

"Yes," Sade replied.

"But how can you be sure?" Cruz asked testily. "Agent Phantom never reported back, and we know little of what happened in the Mordic." He was always the one with the least information, and did not like Sade's short, and usually inexplicable answers.

Sade did not even bother to look at Cruz as he spoke, but a slight wave of heat rippled through the room as he expanded on what he thought was a sufficient answer to Dehr's question.

"I am sure because I can feel the flow of energies between the three of us," Sade said. "Dune is alive and his connection to Doom is growing stronger by the day. He would probably die if the crystal was taken from him now."

_And take whoever was foolish enough to try and steal it with him_. Sade thought, but did not speak aloud.

"Levi is now one with the Goddess," Sade continued. "I felt the connection being made, and the fact that the scarce reports we've received claim his ship destroyed and all hands lost under the waves accords with the prophecy. I do not need that useless fool Phantom's word to confirm what I already know to be true. Bismark could just have easily been the third, but fate chose as was its whim. Do not doubt the word of the gods, Adam, or you will regret it."

Cruz remained silent, but he smoldered in his seat with anger. He had worked hard for both Sade and Dehr for ten years, and this was how he was treated. Someday he would have his way. Already there were those in the Committee, and in other lesser organizations, that feared the almost supernatural goings-on that surrounded the President and her enigmatic aide, and Cruz was the one they came to with their concerns. His unique position of being trusted by Dehr and Sade, and not being feared by the rest of the powers-that-be in Narsille gave him unparalleled opportunities for alliances. He had done his best to convince them to follow Dehr for now, but he knew he could turn their minds to his own ambitions when the time came that the President overstepped her limits, or his patients one too many times. Cruz just had to sit and wait, and time would deliver his plans to fruition.

"Now then," Dehr spoke up, breaking the tense mood that had settled over the room. "I trust Sade's word, which means it is time to enact the final leg of our plans. Once Dune returns from his mission, we will immediately set out for the Crescent Island. I assume you know what to do once we get there, Sade?"

"I do," Sade said quietly. "The path that we must take is clear to me. Once this final mission is done, the power of the three will be released, and we will be there to claim it. make sure you are ready to leave as early as tomorrow. Dune approaches within the hour."

"But will he listen to us?" Cruz spoke up once more. "He was not very happy with this last mission, and to immediately send him out again may be more than he can take."

Sade only smiled at Cruz's lack of faith. "He will follow us whether he likes it or not. I have one more card to play, and he will have no choice but to do everything we ask of him. There is nothing to worry about from him."

"But," Dehr interjected, "there is another on his way here now that may make things more complicated than they need to be. Do you know how we should handle the 'ambassador' from Jidorik, Sade?" Dehr spat out the word 'ambassador' with emotion that was unusual for her calm demeanor.

"Ah...him...," Sade spoke slowly, considering his options carefully. "He is something unexpected. I know not the make if him yet, and will have to see when we meet him shortly. I suspect he will not be as easy to manipulate as some, though."

"Then it will be a game of chess we are about to play?" Dehr said. "He seems no more than a barbarian to me. Let him come to us and say what he will for his people. We'll listen with all the graciousness of the great city of Narsille, make a few empty promises, and then see him on his way. I wouldn't worry about a dog from some barely developed country ruining our plans at this point. We have come too far for that."

A device lighted up at Cruz's part of the table and he glanced at it. "He is at the door now, Madam President," Cruz said, putting on his usual officious air. "Shall I let him in?"

"Yes, let us see what this man is made of," Dehr said with disdain.

Cruz got up and opened the doors for the ambassador, then stepped back in surprise as the man stood before him. Before him was a tall, powerfully built man in gleaming red robes lined with white fur. Under the luxurious robe of Jidorik royalty the man wore a beautiful suit of formal armor, made of pure gold. On his head was a modest circlet signifying a king not yet crowned officially. A glowing blue sword of unknown crystal hung at his side, made neither of metal or mythril.

As soon as Dehr saw him she knew Sade was right, this would not be an easy man to contend with after all. She put on her best face and prepared to greet this unwanted, but necessary visitor.

"Lord, I welcome you to the city of Narsille. I am Eva Dehr, President of the Committee for the Preservation of Peace. To whom may I extend the honors of my city?"

The man spoke clearly, with a deep, rich voice of natural authority. "I am Draco Christophe, Lord-Regent of West Jidorik. I am honored to make your acquaintances. I come here in the name of peace, to renew the vows of non-aggression made by my predecessor, Prince Chad Ralse. Will I be heard?"

Dehr responded in accordance with the treaty texts.

"You shall."

With that, the four were seated, and the game of chess began.


	53. Confluence, 'A Game of Chess'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.2 - A Game of Chess**

Draco stood before the large table and studied the three people in front of him. He had come here for more than one reason, and he felt that this "Committee" was entangled up with his reasons for being in Narsille. His primary goal was finding the Order priestess Cassandra, who had broken off communications over a month ago and had not been heard from since. His secondary goal was finishing what she started and finding the man Dune Karn, with or without her assistance. And his last goal was the one that the Committee assumed was his only goal here today - making sure he still was on safe ground with the most powerful nation on the planet.

The moment he walked into the room, his eyes went straight to the quiet man with the bright red hair and dark smile. He recognized the same black robe that Cassandra had worn, and knew the Order must be as much a power here as the Committee. He wondered who this man was, but he knew for certain he was not someone to be brushed aside as a hanger-on, whatever his demeanor may suggest. Draco had fought many battles against corrupt men who thought nothing of taking another's life or possessions, and he could see in those cold, red eyes the same look of soulless ambition. Draco feared no man alive, but he felt this person was something not of this world, and shuddered inwardly.

The second person he noted was the woman seated next to him, at the head of the table. Draco knew that she was Eva Dehr, President of the Committee for the Preservation of Peace, and effectively the most powerful person in Narsille. There were no kings here in this "civilized" republic, and it was more or less ruled by the largest corporations and organizations in the city. The Committee was at the top of this conglomeration of power, and Dehr was at the top of the Committee. She had the look of cultivation and power about her, from her neat and well-fitting business skirt and tightly wound hair to her disarming smile and open face. One look at her and Draco knew he was dealing with a female version of the former Prince Ralse. She may look like a harmless Narsillian business woman, but Draco knew her type well, and knew she would try to manipulate him into giving up more than Ralse had in his time. He had to give his old rival credit, he had known how to handle people, and Draco suspected he had frustrated Dehr's ambitions on more than one occasion. Getting information out of her would not be easy, and keeping information from her might be even harder. She didn't give off the same aura of menace that the red-haired man did, but she looked just as cunning.

The third person was a short, fat man in an ill-fitting business suit with balding hair and a sickly grin on his pallid face. He didn't seem like much of a threat compared to the other two, but Draco was no fool. Lions and tigresses were a known force, and people gave them their space. But the rat was unpredictable and ignored, and if pushed into a corner or allowed to roam unchecked, just as dangerous. The man was obviously the least important in the room at the moment, and he seemed to be aware of his own lowly position from the way he carried himself. Draco would not treat the man with any disrespect, knowing that the worse thing a person can do to men like this is act like they were lesser creatures.

As he measured each of the personages before him, he sighed to himself. Politics was not his strong suit, and he would prefer to deal with his opponents on the open battle field, not in stuffy meeting rooms of crowded cities. But times had changed, and peace was needed now, not war. For now he would play the part of Ralse, and do his best to manipulate these people as Ralse had, hoping to glean some vital piece of information from them. He steeled himself for the exchange and seated himself across from the President.

President Dehr smiled her most benevolent smile at Draco from across the table and said, "Welcome to our city, Lord Christophe. We have been expecting your arrival and look forward to continuing the era of peace between our two nations that Prince Ralse started. Please tell me, how is your nation faring since its recent upheaval?"

"You may call me simply Draco, Madam President," Draco said, hating the title of Lord. "I thank you for your warm welcome, and I am happy to say West Jidorik is well onto its way of returning to the once-thriving country that it was in my father's day. East Jidorik is even now helping us, thanks to old King Ralse's efforts to make amends for his son's sometimes rash initiatives." Draco paused here, wondering just how much these people knew of the real Chad Ralse, the man that had threatened to slaughter even an unborn child in his quest for power.

"But what of your own nation?" Draco continued. "I have heard tales of the wondrous city of dreams, where there is no war, no crime, and the sun shines year round. At the moment, it seems your city is suffering from a rather unusual storm."

Draco looked out one of the windows as he spoke, noting the almost black overcast sky and thick patter of rain against the pane. He had looked forward to getting out of the rain-drenched Jidorik region and enjoying the artificially maintained paradise of Narsille, but was chagrined to find a downpour here even worse than Jidorik's seasonal storms. Draco wondered if the storms had followed him here from his homeland. Sometimes he could swear the clouds outside seemed alive, swirling with an all-too-human look of malice. Was it an omen of the danger he was in? Draco did not know.

Dehr seemed unaffected by the weather outside, however. She calmly waved his concerns away and said, "Ah that is nothing to worry about Lord, I mean Draco," Dehr smiled that disarming smile once more, "Our ATLAS is malfunctioning, and the only man that can fix the machine is away at the moment. He will be back shortly, and our city will be the one you have seen in your dreams once again."

She pulled the curtains down over the windows as she spoke, though, and Draco knew fear when he saw it, however imperceptible it may be in someone as trained to hide her real feelings as President Dehr was. There had been that familiar flicker in her eyes as she spoke, and Draco knew something was definitely wrong in the city. He had seen that same look greatly magnified in the citizens of the city as he made his way to the Committee headquarters this morning. From what he could gather, the storm had started suddenly a week ago almost out of thin air, and had not ceased for one moment since. The citizens claimed nothing like this had ever happened in the thirty years since the machines to control the weather had been put in place, and were on the verge of panic. He could see that same panic in the President's eyes as well. The fat man who sat at her side, Cruz she had called him, had that same look, much more pronounced, but the red-haired man, who Dehr had strangely not mentioned, did not show even the faintest trace of fear or concern for anything. Never had Draco seen such a mask of cool indifference. If this man feared anything on this earth, Draco would be surprised.

"Now then," Dehr said, returning to the point of the meeting. "I have the treaty documents here ready for you to put your seal to, if you have no further questions..."

"Actually, I was wondering if I may inquire about someone I think may have been from Narsille," Draco said quickly, pouncing on this opportunity to find out what these people knew about Cassandra and Dune.

Dehr paused with a slight air of uncertainty, but allowed him to ask his question.

"There was a woman by the name of Cassandra that I had come into contact with, and was hoping to see here in Narsille when I arrived. Do you happen to know where she may be? I believe she was a member of the Order of the Pearl, like your companion here..." Draco waved his hand politely in the direction of the red-haired man, hoping he could gain some information about both Cassandra and him at the same time.

The man made no sign he heard or cared about Draco's question, but Dehr was ready with another calm platitude.

"Cassandra...," Dehr made the appearance of accessing a terminal in front of her, then continued. "Ah yes, there was a member of the Order by that name living here. Our records show that she has returned to her homeland for an indefinite amount of time . I am sorry to say you have missed her. May I ask how you knew her? Order members do not tend to associate with the outside world."

Draco knew a lie when he heard one, and wondered once again what had happened to the poor young girl that had burst into his throne room three months ago with claims of prophecies and doomsdays. Draco knew he must lie in turn to protect her, if he had any power to still protect her now.

"I had met her while traveling here. She was a missionary, trying to spread the word of the Order. I had enjoyed talking to her, and said I would meet up with her again if I ever ventured to Narsille. I am sorry to have missed her."

Draco paused for a moment not knowing whether Dehr believed his story or not, and then framed his next question in as innocent a light as he could. This would be a trickier name to drop, and he had better be ready to explain himself.

"There was one other person I was hoping to meet here, if I may trouble you one more time."

Dehr seemed a bit more agitated by his continued questions, but kept her face calm and did not waver in her hospitality.

"I am a bit of an amateur historian of my country and the lands beneath it, and was told of a man here that was well-versed in ancient lore and geology, especially of the Jidorik region. I believe his name was Karn?" Draco drudged up the vague information he had been able to learn from the carrying case Cassandra had brought him. He hoped the man was well-known enough that his story was believable. He seemed to have high credentials, and apparently was employed by the Committee.

Draco saw a visible look of surprise on both Dehr's and Cruz's faces at the mention of the man, and even thought he saw a brief flash of anger through the mask of the unknown man. No one spoke for a moment, but the red-haired man glanced at Dehr and then back at Draco, staring straight into his eyes for what seemed a lifetime. Draco did not flinch, and returned the man's stare with as innocent a look as he could muster. After a tense moment where Draco swore the man was ready to attack him right there in the meeting room, he glanced again at the President, but said nothing.

"I...do not know of anyone by that name off-hand...," Dehr said slowly, and made the show of accessing her terminal again. "Karn...there is a man by the name of Dune Karn who is currently out on an expedition to the south. I do not know when he will return, but I can have him notified that you are interested in his expertise..." Dehr was obviously put off by the mention of the name, but she did a good job of maintaining her composure.

The other man, Cruz, was not nearly as adept at keeping his emotions hidden, and was visibly agitated by the mention of Dune Karn.

"And where did you hear that name at, if I may ask?" Cruz interjected roughly. The other two looked at him sharply, but made no attempt to stop him.

Draco remained as calm as ever and replied, "I knew Narsille was at the head of most sciences and technologies, so I inquired around the city and was told he was the best man for my needs. I had never heard the name before today."

The tension did not ease in the room, but Dehr looked around her and laughed it away as best she could. "Well my Lord Draco, I think it is time we signed this treaty. If you would?" She handed him a pen and a look that said clearly the time for idle questions was over.

"Of course, Madam President," Draco said without concern. He knew he had dodged a bullet, but from where he could not say. He made a few comments and revisions regarding the treaty, then signed it and made his good-byes to the Committee members. He looked perfectly at ease, but inside he was still concerned. He knew they were lying about Cassandra, and their reaction to the mere mention of Dune Karn was surprising. He bowed to them and left the room, wondering what he would do next.

Outside the meeting room, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He had not noticed it while he was inside the room, but it had become increasingly warm as he discussed matters with the Committee. Stepping out of the room he felt the cool air of the well ventilated main hallway hit his face. He realized with some surprise that there was sweat on his brow, whether from the heat or fear he did not know.

Standing in the large hallway waiting for him was his Eastern Advisor, Barden. The man had insisted on coming with him, to make sure there was a smooth transition from Ralse's reign into Draco's. Draco did not mind, since this man was Ralse's closest advisor, and privy to many of the plans and ambitions of the mad Prince. And unlike Ralse, Barden was an advocate for peace, and was happy to cut his ties with Ralse and join Draco's side.

"So how did it go, my Lord?" Barden said cautiously.

"I am not sure...," Draco said honestly. "There is much going on in this city, it would seem. The storm, Cassandra, and Dune Karn all seem to be topics of contention, and I am sure they knew far more than what they told me. Especially about Mr. Karn. I must find out more somehow."

The two men quietly discussed their plans to themselves as they walked towards the exit. Before they could leave the building, though, the large doors swung open with a gust of wind and rain. Draco and Barden stopped suddenly as the silhouettes of four men stood in the doorway, drenched by the rain outside. They looked like ghosts risen from the grave, but all four had looks of fierce determination on their faces, and Draco knew warriors when he saw them. He quietly pushed Barden behind him and stood aside to see what they would do. Surely they couldn't be here for him?

The four men strode into the hallway defiantly, not waiting to be seen or caring who was in their way. Three of them were old men, but all still strong and healthy, save for a missing eye and leg on one of them, a sea captain by the look of his coat. The other two wore the plain clothes of Narsillian workers, but had an air of nobility and confidence about them that Draco thought fitted them well. They could have been kings of some distant land for all Draco knew.

The fourth man was younger than the rest, though, and had strikingly grey hair for his age, tied back in a ponytail. The look on his face was one of grim determination, and it was he who led the group down the hallway, right past Draco as if he were nothing more than a fly. Draco felt a wave of coldness slam into him as the man passed. And then, a wave of recognition. This was the man! This was Dune Karn!

Without warning, Draco sprung forward and quickly stepped in front of the fearsome group of men. They looked like the might keep walking right through him, but the three old men stopped and one put a hand on the man that must be Dune to stop him. All four men looked at Draco suspiciously, and Draco returned their stare in kind.

"Are you Dune Karn?" Draco said firmly.

"I am," the man returned coldly. "What do want with me?"

Draco's hand went to the hilt of his sword, the Scion.

"I am Draco Christophe, and I am here to stop you!"


	54. Confluence, 'Clash'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.3 - Clash**

"Get out of my way," Dune said, just as coldly as before. His eyes were set with a grim determination Draco had only ever seen in the eyes of soldiers with nothing left to lose. Draco's grip on his sword tightened, but he did not pull back. He could not pull back now.

Draco and Dune stood looking at each other, neither moving a muscle. Finally, Draco had found the man at the center of this mystery, and he wasn't going to let him get away again. He may not have been in a position to force information out of the Committee, but this man was just an ordinary citizen, and Draco was through talking. Cassandra's life was possibly in danger, and his own instinct told him now was not the time for another casual interview with fake pleasantries.

He could feel the warrior spirit flowing off the man in intense waves of coldness, and knew if he pushed even one step more, the consequences would be deadly. This was the last known person that Cassandra had been in contact with before she was lost. Looking into Dune's eyes, he could very well believe this man had killed her. There was the same inhuman presence in them that was in Sade's eyes when Draco had mentioned Dune's name. No doubt this was not a coincidence.

"You have something of immense power, Dune Karn. I will take it from you. Now."

Draco placed his thumb into the space between his scabbard and the hilt of the Scion and lifted, slowly.

Dune stood stock still, but his eyes clouded over blue and his flowing grey hair began to stand on end. A stronger wave of coldness slammed into Draco, and a blue aura was beginning to form around him.

Draco stood his ground and prepared to strike.

"Now wait just a damn minute, you fools!"

The old sea captain pushed the other two dumb-founded old men aside and grabbed hold of Dune, forcing himself between Dune and Draco. There was a look of rage and fear in his grizzled old face. But the fear was directed at Draco.

The two other men immediately came to their senses and grabbed Dune, forcing him behind them as well, the waves of coldness still flowing from him, but slowly subsiding. The sea captain let go of Dune carefully and walked straight up to Draco. He was a huge man, and probably would have been a match for Draco in his youth. Even now, he was an intimidating figure, and Draco knew his first impression of the man was right. He was a warrior. Of a different caste than Draco, perhaps, but a true man of honor and bravery.

"I don't know who you are, boy, but you better put that sword down before you get yourself killed." The old man's voice was rough as nails, but he spoke with a clear authority that Draco somehow felt compelled to obey.

Who was this man? Their reports only mentioned Dune. Draco began to feel unsure of his convictions. Just what _did_ he know about the situation here? Draco faltered, and took his thumb from his sword, but did not take his hand from its side.

"Now, we're not here to cause trouble with you, so I would suggest you step aside and let us go about our business. You seem to have a bone to pick with my friend here, and the Gods know you aren't alone, so you'll just have wait your turn until we're done with the scum in that room behind you. Got it?"

Now Draco was confused. These men did not seem to be with the Committee after all. And if Dune wasn't working with the Committee, then just what was his position? Draco needed more information, and soon. Cassandra's wild claims only took him to the foot of this situation, and he had foolishly dived further in before figuring out which way was up. If only Cassandra hadn't been lost, then he wouldn't have had to come marching up here like this. If Maria were by his side, he doubted he would be where he was at now.

Draco sighed and stood back, but not out of the way of the men's path. Dune was back on his feet now, and the blue death that had been in his eyes was gone for the moment. Only a weary determination remained. Draco saw a normal man before him, as vulnerable as anyone else.

"I am Draco Christophe," Draco said humbly, deciding to lay his cards on the table. "I came here in search of someone. A woman named Cassandra. Dune Karn was the last person to see her before we lost contact. I have information claiming he is in possession of an extremely dangerous power and must be stopped at all costs." Draco paused, looking at each of the men in turn. There was no surprise in any of their eyes, only suspicion. They knew what he was talking about, he was sure of it. "Am I right?"

The sea captain spoke up, very slowly and carefully. "Aye, you seem to know a bit of what's going on here, it would seem. Who are you, and what have you got to do with the Committee?"

"I have nothing to do with them," Draco said firmly. "I am from the Jidorik region, and am here on a peace-keeping mission. Finding my missing friend and Mr. Karn were a...side project."

The old sea captain laughed loudly. "Peace-keeping, eh? Could have fooled me. The name's Bismark. _Captain_ Bismark to you." The captain waved his hands at the rest of his group. "You know Dune apparently, and the other two men are Professors Indra and Figaro."

Draco nodded in their directions, but did not completely let down his guard. Knowing a man's name did mean he was a friend.

"Well then, now that we're all acquainted, I think we need to get back on track. We need to get in there and hammer out some things with those Committee dogs. Are you going to let us pass or not?"

Draco felt his one chance at answers slipping away from him again and said quickly, "We need to talk further, somewhere safe. If you agree to meet me later, I will let you go."

Now Dune suddenly spoke up from behind Captain Bismark, "Fine. We'll talk all you want later, just let us pass. This is a matter of life or death, and I will not be kept waiting any more, understand?"

Draco saw that Dune was very tired, and seemed to be in pain after their near conflict. But that determination had never left his eyes. This man definitely had something important to do here, and Draco could sense it was not his place to stop him at this moment. Draco stood aside and watched as the men marched past him and into the meeting room.

"Barden, come here."

Draco's advisor slowly stepped out from the shadows, still shaking with fear of what almost happened.

"Stay here. Wait for them to come out and then show them to our room in the city. I will be waiting there to meet with them. It is becoming more and more apparent to me that we do not have sufficient information to make intelligent decisions regarding the matter of Cassandra and her claims. Bring them to me, and we shall see what answers I can get from them. I have a feeling they will be more talkative than the Committee was. And..." Draco stopped talking, and looked hard at the closed meeting doors.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"...be careful, Barden. I don't know what we are getting ourselves into, but I have never seen power like this before. I don't know who is more dangerous, Sade or Dune. They both seem...possessed. I hope I am making the right choice this time. At least I know that Maria is safe back home, and not here in this hornet's nest."

Draco thought once more of his wife, and their unborn child, with deep longing. She was now half-way along with her pregnancy, and he wondered just what kind of world he was bringing his child into. Would there even be a world left for it? Draco swore to himself that he would stop all the Ralse's of the world by himself if he must. Whatever was going on in Narsille, he would not let it reach his homeland.

"Barden, I'm returning to our hotel room to re-think my plans and prepare for tomorrow. Make sure you bring Dune to me tonight."

"Yes, my Lord."

Draco glanced back at the closed doors of the meeting room one last time, then quickly strode out of the building and back into the downpour outside. Barden remained as ordered, anxiously fidgeting just outside the door. After seeing what that man Dune had become when Draco prepared to attack, Barden was not eager to see him again. But Draco was his king now, and he would follow his orders, even to the death if commanded of him. It was strange, Barden had never felt this kind of loyalty towards Ralse, but Draco was an inspiring man, and he gave hope to everyone he met. Yes, Barden would stand here and wait, even for his doom if that was what was required of him. He wiped the sweat from his aging brow and blinked twice. It would be a long wait.

Back in the meeting room, the four men were making their stand. Dune, Bismark, Indie, and Alex had burst into the room in a fury, not even pretending civility now.

Upon returning to Narsille, now under a thick black cloud that was familiar to all of them, Dune had insisted on checking his apartment first to see if Mae was there. She was not, and there was no note. The rooms had been ransacked and it looked as if there had been a struggle, but it had been so long since Dune had even seen his apartment he wasn't sure just how it should look now. He knew the Committee - no, _Sade_ - had hinted that Mae was now "safe" with the Committee last time he was in his apartment. He wondered if they could possibly have kept her down in that underground facility all this time, and his blood raged inside him.

After seeing his home empty of all he cared about, Dune's next destination was the Committee headquarters at the heart of the city. Twice now they had nearly sent him to his death, and he was done playing their games. Bismark and the others agreed to join him without hesitation. Whatever happened now, they were a team, and they all knew instinctively that their fates were now intertwined with Dune's.

In an odd way, they were the old team again of Bismark, Indie, Alex, and Silas, running headfirst into adventure like the old days. Only it was Silas's son that was with them now. Dune may not be aware of the similarities, but the three old men felt as if they had gone back in time and were reliving the events of thirty years ago all over again. Would this new adventure end the same way? Would Dune end up sacrificing himself the way his father had?

Bismark's thoughts kept returning to Silas as he watched Dune carefully all the way to the Committee headquarters. He would not let his old friend down again, and he would not let Dune down either. Dune had become the son he never had over the years, despite the reluctance with which he had followed Silas's dying promise to look after his son. It wasn't until he had thought Dune dead at the bottom of the Mordic that he had truly realized just how much the "foolish scientist" meant to him. He had been mad with grief, and only Dune's miraculous return had brought him back from the brink.

After the scuffle with Draco, Bismark once again feared what would happen to Dune. He saw the way Dune had looked, and didn't like it. It was too much like the way Silas had looked, like there was something inside him eating away at his soul. Only where Silas had been full of a holy light, the light that shone from Dune was only cold and empty. He would not let that frozen flame consume Dune. It may be his fate to sacrifice himself for Silas's son the way Silas had sacrificed himself for Bismark. If that was his fate, then so be it, Bismark was ready.

The four men had reached the door, with Dune and Bismark in front. There was no turning back now, it was time to do what they had come here to do. With a mighty push the two men thrust open the meeting room doors and stood face to face with Dehr, Sade, and Cruz. Cruz looked surprised, Dehr slightly less so, and Sade not at all.

"What a pleasant surprise!" Dehr said as calmly as she could in spite of the angry faces before her. "We had not expected you back so soon. Unfortunately, I have to inform you that there is one more mission for you to take. I hope-"

"Enough!" Dune shouted, almost surprising himself with his vehemence. There was more than just Dune talking at this moment. He could feel the cold energy still flowing through him, and he knew that horrible demon Doom was fueling his rage with icy hatred, pushing him to the edge of his self-control. He must fight Doom with every ounce of his energy. He had almost lost control again back in the hallway, and he couldn't afford letting it happen here.

"No more games, no more missions, from any of you," Dune said, somewhat more calmly, looking at all three of them. "I am not going on any more of your pointless missions. Where is my wife? Where is Mae?"

Dehr opened her mouth to speak, but Sade decided it was time to play his last card.

"We have your wife, Dune. She is safe for the moment, and I suggest you hear us out if you want her to remain that way."

"You dirty..!" Bismark burst out, but could not continue. He was as enraged as Dune at Sade's tactics. What had only been a thinly-veiled implication before was now a cold, hard threat. Sade was no better than Levi. If only Sade could share his old rival's grisly fate.

Dune remained silent for a moment, and the air in the room wavered between blistering heat and piercing cold while everyone waited to see what he would do. Doom's crypt-worn voice echoed through his mind.

_"Do it now! Destroy them all! You see what kind of monsters they really are now. Let my power free and you will have your wife back..."_

_"No!" _Dune answered back, defiantly. _"Your will is not mine! I will not let your hate guide my actions. Now or ever. Be gone!"_

_"As you wish, Master," _the distant voice whispered, thick with sarcasm. _"Our time is coming, my Vessel..."_

And Doom spoke no more.

"Sade." Dune spoke up quietly after almost a full minute of tense silence. "If anything happens to Mae, you will regret ever forcing me into your service. I have no choice, it seems, but to follow you."

"Good!" Sade said with feigned enthusiasm, but an evil grin that was very real. He knew this would be the outcome before Dune had ever entered the room. "Now then, if you will let the President continue, we will move things forward, and you will be one step closer to being reunited with your beloved wife."

Dune was silent now, but the anger and indignation was still on his face, and on the faces of his companions. Alex and Indie said nothing, but the shame of having been in the employ of these vermin for so many years and not realizing how they really operated filled them. This would be the last time any of them worked for the Committee, contracts be damned.

Dehr continued as calmly as she had started, as if nothing had interrupted her speech. "Moving forward, we have one more mission for you, Dune. And this time, we will be joining you."

The group's faces registered surprise at this, and eagerness. Not letting the Committee out of their sight was exactly what they wanted.

"Our destination this time is the Island of the Moon, or as you know it, Crescent Island. We will leave tomorrow at sunrise by boat. I take it you will be traveling on Captain Bismark's ship again?"

Dune said nothing, and Bismark only grunted.

"I see. I will take that as a yes, then. I assume a sea-faring man such as yourself, Captain, knows how to reach Crescent Island, so I will spare you the directions. Once we reach the island, you will follow us to the designated area and follow all of our directions explicitly. It will not be easy going, but I think you have the proper motivation, yes?"

Dune would not let Dehr get to him. "Just get on with it."

"Do not worry, Mr. Karn," Dehr smiled as cheerfully as she could. "Follow our directions, and everything will be fine. I realize the last two missions were a bit more dangerous than we had thought, but I assure you they were both successes. This mission should be no different, and with myself, Adam, and Sade there, no harm will come to you, or anyone else..."

Dune knew who she was implying, but did not let it affect him. He was ready for whatever they made him do, for Mae's sake. Bismark spoke up suddenly, though.

"And what about Jonah Levi? He lost his life for your little treasure hunt, and we found nothing in the Mordic but monsters. As much as I hated him, he fell prey to your schemings, and I see no reason to trust you with our safety now."

"Oh?" Dehr returned smartly. "Yes, I am aware of the unfortunate accident that claimed Captain Levi and his crew, but I assure you, the mission _was_ a success, whether you may be aware of it or not. You may not trust us now, but surely we would not be going on this mission ourselves if it was truly as dangerous as you think it will be. Am I right?"

_"And Jonah Levi may not be as lost as you think, Captain." _Dehr thought to herself.

Bismark only grunted again in reply to this. He was not going to argue with these people anymore.

"So," Dehr continued. "You know our destination, and you know when we are leaving. I suggest you make your preparations now, while there is still a little light. I am sorry for the weather, but I assure you it will pass. Maybe you could have a look at our ATLAS, Professor Indra?" Dehr turned her smile on the silent Indie.

"Not on your life, miss," Indie spoke up angrily. "You know as well as I do there's nothing wrong with my machines. This is your doing, and you had better hope it doesn't get worse, or no amount of technology will save this city. If you care about that at all."

Indie had known exactly what the storm over Narsille was the moment Dune had pointed it out to him back on the Figaro. It was the same storm Bismark had told him appeared over the Thanas desert, and the same storm that had so brutally attacked them on the Mordic seas. It had not yet reached that level of intensity yet, but Indie knew it was only a matter of time. Even now, the city's inhabitants were nearing panic, and no one would leave their buildings for fear of what might happen next. The citizens of Narsille had enjoyed the comfort of his weather machines for too long, perhaps. They were not ready for anything like this. Indie wondered if he had made a mistake in implementing the ATLAS technology so long ago. Sometimes arts that have been lost to time should remain lost.

Dehr pretended offense at Indie's comment, but did not change her pitch. "Professor, you know that the peace of our city and its citizens is the primary goal of this Committee. We will do everything in our power to address this untimely weather, with or without your assistance. However, I think that is enough for now. You know what we need you to do, and we shall meet again tomorrow at the eastern docks, I hope?"

"We'll be there." Dune said without emotion.

"Excellent! I am glad you are seeing things our way, Mr. Karn. Perhaps you will see in time the necessity of our actions, and maybe you will even join us once you see the true scope of our plans?" Dehr began to smile, but Dune's own smile in return stopped her smile halfway.

"Never."

Without another word, Dune turned and walked out of the room. Bismark and the others followed him with equal scorn.

Sade only smiled, quite pleased with the way the "meeting" had went.

"I think tomorrow will be a beautiful day, don't you, Eva?"

Dehr said nothing. She was not so sure. Now that the time was coming for her to get directly involved, she was not sure of anything. Sade still played his hand far too close to his chest, and she knew little of what awaited them on the island. She trusted him as best she could, but what if she met the same fate as Levi, wherever and whatever he was now?

Sade continued to smile, even as Cruz and Dehr hastily excused themselves from the room. The heat had been growing, and it had become far too hot for them to remain. Sade enjoyed the silence.

He looked out the window and frowned, briefly. He did not like the dark power outside, as much as he hid it from the others. His Master had mentioned nothing of its presence here in Narsille, and he did not know what part it had to play. He felt like a god among men when dealing with people, but when he realized he, too, was only a pawn for the real gods around them, he felt the pang of uncertainty. As long as he had his revenge, they could do what they will with him, he thought. But he had suffered so much already. How much more must he endure?

_"You will endure, Vessel. You will endure, or be consumed by my flames."_

The ashen voice of his Master spoke in his mind, then faded back to the dark void it came from. Sade got up quickly and left the room for his quarters. Suddenly the heat was too much even for him to bear.


	55. Confluence, 'Beauty and the Beast'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.4 - Beauty and the Beast**

Within a few days of the coming of the storm to Narsille, the normally bustling streets of the city had quickly thinned to an urban desert. Even a few moments of rain were unheard of inside the city walls, and many of its citizens had never even seen rain before. As the minutes turned to hours, and the hours into days, the people began to panic.

The thick billowing clouds blackened the sky above like some sort of perpetual eclipse, brightening only during the occasional flash of lightning. Many people were convinced the world was coming to an end. No one dared leave their apartment towers unless they absolutely must, and the only vehicles on the roads now were the automatic buses that silently drifted through the city like ghosts, with no pilots or passengers. The only sound in the air was the constant patter of rain and the dull thud of distant thunder, echoing down between the tall buildings that made up most of Narsille. It was a somber welcome to the city of dreams by day, as Draco had seen it when he arrived. By night, it was terrifying.

It was night now, and one lone person was struggling through the empty valleys between the mile-high apartment towers. It was a woman, covered in a wet hooded cloak from head to toe, and looking bewilderedly from tower to tower as she stumbled from one street corner to the next in a state of reverse-vertigo. She felt like an ant in a land of giants as she peered through the cold rain at the cloud-hidden tops of the towers, reeling at the scale of the city. Her homeland was nothing like this!

She slowly worked her way from one forbidding building to the next, pounded on every door she could find. Most were locked tight and silent as graves. The ones that were answered were usually towers with shops and offices at their bases, a common sight in the densely packed city. Despite her pathetic appearance, no one would let her stay inside. Fear had gripped this city tight in its claws, and a person like her appearing on a night like this was surely a bad omen. Some people actually yelled at her, terrified that she was some sort of ghost, and that the city had fallen one step further into hell.

But one equally lonely soul had finally relented to the woman's cries. A door opened, and an angry bespectacled face shot out from it, wasting no time berating the poor woman.

"What is it, then? Who are you to bother me at this ungodly hour? You had better be dying from some grievous head wound to come wailing around my office at this time and in this weather. Well? You've got my attention, so out with it!"

The woman was breathing heavily with fatigue, and spoke with effort between gasps. "Kind sir, I am a stranger in your land, and I am in need of assistance. Please, sir! Let me stay here tonight! I am heavily pregnant, and need to rest somewhere, anywhere out of this storm!"

The woman first put her hands to her stomach, where a large bulge showed just beneath her cloak, then she pulled back her hood to look the man in the face. Her face, even in the dark, wet night, seemed to shine with an inner radiance. Her long golden hair, not the least diminished by the rain, framed a snow-white face with the strong features of a noblewoman. It was the face of an angel. It was the face of Maria Chere.

The surprising beauty of the face startled the angry man and his glasses nearly fell off his face in shock. He stood spellbound for a brief moment, then slicked back his now wet hair and gestured her inside. It was grey hair, short and neatly kept, but the face was the sharp handsome face of a young man no older than thirty. It was not a kind face, but the sudden appearance of this distinctively non-Narsillian-looking woman softened it considerably.

"Pregnant? Why on earth are you out of bed? Are you crazy, woman? Get out of those wet things and lie down on this!" The man spoke harshly, mostly out of habit, but also because this woman was having a curious effect on his temperament, and he was growing uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he glanced awkwardly at the cloaked figure standing in his office.

"I thank you, good sir," Maria said wearily as she shed her cloak, now dark and heavy with rain water. Beneath the cloak she wore only a white dress of Jidorikian make. It was made of finely woven silk and designed personally for her during her pregnancy. It fit snugly across her bosom, but loosely around her growing waist. She wore only thin slippers on her feet and carried a small handbag at her side. Inside the bag were all her worldly possessions now in this place.

"My name is Maria Chere," Maria spoke after the man had eased her into a nearby cot. "I am traveling from Jidorik to see my husband, who is here in your city as we speak. Or so I hope. He does not know that I came here, and I fear he is in danger. I could not bear to sit at home and wait for him like I did before, not knowing if he was alive or dead, so I made the journey here to be at his side...only..." she paused and blushed, embarrassed by her confession to this stranger.

"Yes?" The man urged her on. He was surprised to find that he wanted to hear more, that he wanted to hear her voice. It was a mesmerizing voice, rich and full of intelligence and strength, unlike the tired, apathetic voices of Narsille that he was accustomed to hearing throughout the day. Normally he only half-listened to what his patients told him, but this woman was having a strange effect on him. It was something he had not felt for a long time, if ever at all. Was it attraction, or perhaps just real appreciation for another human being he could talk with?

"Only...I lost my way in the city," Maria continued quietly, suddenly aware of her foolishness. "Your city is like something out of a dream! I never imagined such places existed in the world. I am sorry to say I was not prepared for it."

Now the man grimaced slightly. "Oh yes, this is quite the city all right. A city of fools and layabouts! Strangers typically find our wonderful city breathtaking at first, but they never seem to want to live here. You'll see soon enough, I suppose. There's something dead about our city, as if no one really cared about what happened in it anymore, as long as they get their pay and their warm food and houses. A person such as yourself, Maria was it? A person such as yourself, Maria, does not belong in a den of indolence like this. You seem to me to be a person of a much higher station in life. Why, you look like you could be a queen sitting here in an outfit like that."

The man stopped and looked furtively away from Maria, and Maria did the same at the mention of the word queen. He felt like he had said more than he intended, both about the city and the woman. "Ah, forgive me, I have not even introduced my self. My name is Atma, Dr. Atma. I am a medical doctor here in the city, although I enjoy taking as many business trips away from this place as I can. You were lucky to find me in tonight."

"I am in your debt, Doctor. I know I am in no condition to travel but..."

"Yes, yes, love and all that," Atma finished, not completely unkindly. "People have done more foolish things for the ones they love, I suppose. Here, lie back and let me look at you. Our city may not have the greatest inhabitants, but our medical technology is second to none. I doubt you've had anything more than shamans and midwives looking after you back home. Let me give you a proper work up and see where we stand, eh?"

Maria could not help but smile at his coarse words. He was more right than he guessed about the shamans and midwives. She, a queen, felt like a regular country bumpkin here in this sterile white room filled with more devices and chemicals than she could ever identify, and she bet her own doctors back home wouldn't be able to guess at their purposes, either.

"You don't need to worry about me, Doctor. I am already far too much in your debt as it is, and I would not want to keep you here all night looking after me."

"No matter, it is a quick procedure. The machines do all the work. I just turn them on and wait. Here, just relax and let me work, alright?"

Before Maria could protest further, Atma had wheeled a large box-like machine over to her and pulled out an object attached to it that almost looked like a weapon. Maria tensed at the site of the object, but the doctor reassured her.

"Heh, don't worry, it won't bite. This machine will let me look at your child and see how he is doing. It's called a sonogram, and it is not dangerous. I think you'll find this to be quite an enlightening experience. Now hold still while I run the transducer over your stomach. Ready?"

"Yes doctor." Maria said obediently. She did not really understand what he meant by looking at a child that was inside her, but she trusted him.

Atma took the strange-looking object in one hand and rubbed some sort of thick jelly on her stomach with the other. Maria had no idea what to expect, but as he placed the object on her and moved it across her belly in practiced motions, she felt at peace. She had made it here safely, somehow. And now she was in the hands of a doctor like nothing she could ever find in Jidorik, and soon she would be know whether her child was safe as well. She had gotten lucky, and she knew she was blessed to be here right now and not still outside, where she would probably have collapsed cold and alone by now.

After a moment Atma motioned towards the machine and told her to look at the screen sitting on top of it. She did not know what she was looking for at first, but slowly her eyes pieced the strange vision together. She saw a bean-shaped blob in black and white with vaguely familiar features poking through it. Fingers, toes, something that looked like a face, a leg...and then it came to her what she must be looking at.

"Oh!" She gasped reflexively. "That's...my baby, isn't it? How...?" Maria was speechless. This was surely magic!

Atma chuckled, reading her thoughts. "I'm sure it looks like magic, but it is just science. Nothing more than waves of sound and electrical impulses. The real wonder here is that you are carrying twins, Ms. Chere."

"Twins?" Maria gasped. Now she saw it, though. Not one face, but two. And four hands, four legs. She could see them moving slightly. One of the mouths opened in a tiny, perfect yawn. This city was so full of wonder she had trouble seeing what the doctor obviously hated about it.

"Yes, you are carrying two healthy babies. One male, one female. I'd say you're about six months along, am I right?"

"Yes...," Maria said breathlessly. Twins...a baby boy and a baby girl...her heart fluttered at the thought, and she imagined Draco's face when he heard the news. Twins were considered a good omen in Jidorik. It was a sign that the family line would continue for many generations to come.

"I see that you are a little overwhelmed. That's understandable even for a native Narsillian receiving the news that they are having twins. But twins can be dangerous births, even here in Narsille. I strongly suggest you stay here until it is time to give birth, and let one of our doctors deliver the babies. Forgive me for being blunt, but your homeland is not equipped to handle multiple births like we are, and I would not risk traveling back there now. Is your husband planning on staying here for a while?"

Now Maria realized the depth of the situation she was in. Draco would not, could not stay here for that long. He would have to get back to his people and be crowned properly as King. Another usurper like Ralse could come along in that time and destroy everything they had created. But the doctor was right, she knew from the other wives how uncertain twin births could be, and more than half of them had lost both children in childbirth. She shuddered in fear for her unborn children, and for the uncertain and difficult future she knew she had thrown herself into.

"I don't know what I should do...my husband must return to his kingdom soon, he cannot stay here, even for me. Oh, I shouldn't have come!" She put her head in her hands and began to weep.

Atma was stunned out of his professional mask, and dropped the transducer-object to the floor. He was accustomed to all sorts of displays of emotion, of course. A doctor saw people at their most vulnerable. But now...he felt like he was the one that was vulnerable, and was unsure what to do. Here was a beautiful woman like something out of a fairy tale, weeping at his side! He almost wished that she hadn't have come here, as well. He was not used to feeling uncomfortable around his patients, but she had somehow worked her way past his external wall, either through the bizarre circumstance of her arrival, or her almost otherworldly aura. With an extreme effort, he put his arm around her and tried his best to comfort her. Her shoulder was warm, and her hair smelled like exotic flowers the likes of which Atma had never known existed.

This was turning into one of the strangest nights of Atma's life. After this experience, he felt he just may have to leave Narsille for good. If this heavenly figure was what the people outside the walls of this detestable city were like, then he had been missing out. Atma only knew of the battlefields outside of the city. He had never traveled beyond its walls for pleasure. But here, now, this _was_ pleasure. This woman had sparked something inside of him that could not be ignored. The city of dreams be damned, it was time Atma expanded his horizons and saw the dreams of the rest of the world. But not until he had safely seen to the birth of this woman's twins. Atma only hoped the storm outside didn't drown them all before then.

He continued to hold the weeping Maria, and the storm continued to rage on outside.


	56. Confluence, 'Into the Deep'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.5 - Into the Deep**

High above and far away from where Atma watched over Maria, Draco held his night meeting with Dune and his friends in his hotel room. Had he known his wife was in the city at that very moment, he would have dropped everything and thought only of her safety. Maria had been careful, though, and made sure her husband would not be burdened with the knowledge that his beloved was not safe at home as he thought.

Now, Draco focused only on the task at hand - finding out as much as he could from the infamous Dune Karn and hopefully plotting the course he would be taking next. Without Dune's help, Draco would probably never be able to learn what was really going on in this city, and it was with this sobering thought Draco welcomed the man he had nearly attacked hours before.

"Welcome, Mr. Karn," Draco said humbly as Dune, Bismark, Indie, and Alex appeared at the appointed hour. "First, let me apologize for earlier. I was under the impression you were the enemy I came here to find, but it appears the situation is more complicated than I had originally assumed."

Dune seemed no less grim than he had before, but the cold fire, the look of impending violence, was gone from his eyes. He looked tired. Draco offered him and his guests seats, and they gladly took them as they dried themselves off. They all looked weary of the day's events.

"I understand. Sometimes I wonder if we aren't really the enemy after all," Dune said cryptically as he brushed the rain off his hat, an old beaten thing that looked like it belonged in a museum. He pushed his glasses up in a gesture of embarrassment, obviously as ashamed of his earlier actions as Draco.

"How do you mean?"

"We've been 'asked' to go on another mission for the Committee. I had no choice, and no matter how hard I struggle, it seems I keep doing exactly what they want of me." Dune sighed, and Bismark grumbled something that sounded like a curse under his breath.

"And what kind of mission are they forcing you into?" Draco asked, not surprised at the Committee's underhanded actions. He suspected this was how the organization really operated. And he also suspected this mission was tied to his purpose here.

Bismark spoke up this time, apparently more familiar with the specifics than Dune. "They want us to go with them to Crescent Island, on the other side of the blasted world. Why, I don't know, but I'm sure it's nothing good."

"Crescent Island?" Draco asked. "I have heard of it, I think, but only as a curiosity."

"Curious, indeed!" Bismark exclaimed. "The island's got nothing but primitives on it, and nothing else besides rumors of treasure and monsters. All faraway places have those kind of tales, though."

"We've already had our fill of both," Indie interjected quietly.

"And I have a feeling we aren't done yet, either." Bismark grumbled. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know much about the specifics of the place, but your father, Dune, was a bit of an expert on it, if I remember right."

"My father?" Dune asked with surprise. Bismark hardly ever mentioned his father.

"Aye, Silas spent a few years there, studying their language. He called it the Isle of the Moon. Said it was a very interesting place, though I don't know why. 'Rich in the deep histories' he said, whatever that meant."

"Isle of the Moon...," Draco mused. "I have heard it called that, too. A traveler to my kingdom once claimed that a moon fell to earth there and carved half the island away, eons ago, and that's how it got its curious shape and name. I'm sure that's a fairy tale, though."

"You never know what the truth behind a legend might be," Alex said suddenly from his quiet corner. But he said no more, keeping his thoughts to himself, as he usually did.

"Anyways, we're headed there tomorrow," Dune finished.

"So soon?" Draco asked. "That does not give me much time to make a decision on what I must do." Now Draco was concerned. He must hurry and get the information he so badly needed without wasting any more time on idle banter. " Please, first could I ask you about the woman who came here looking for you a few months ago? Her name was Cassandra, and she would have been dressed in the black robes of the Order of the Pearl."

Dune thought for a moment, and he remembered the crazed young woman who had burst into his room. Hadn't she called herself Cassandra? What _had_ happened to her?

"Yes..." Dune pondered slowly. "I met her in my apartment. Or should I say, she forced her way in like a robber and claimed she was trying to save the world. She was quite insistent."

Draco couldn't help but smile. That was Cassandra all right. A more exuberant girl he had never seen. "That sounds like our Cassandra. What did you do?"

Now Dune paused uncomfortably. What had he done?

"I...I don't remember very well, honestly. She grabbed for my..." Dune stopped and clutched the pocket of his shirt where the crystal slept, feeling a sudden surge of cold energy from it. "She grabbed me and I must have fainted. I was very tired at the time. When I came to, she was gone. I don't know where she went."

"_But you do know, Dune," _a small voice whispered in the back of Dune's mind. He ignored it as best he could.

Draco had caught Dune's correction, and knew he must press the man. This was what he had come to find.

"Dune, she came to you looking for something. It would have been some sort of crystal, which she claimed had tremendous power. Do you know what she meant?"

Dune said nothing and looked down at the floor. But Bismark, Indie, and Alex all looked at him for a moment with worried eyes. After a long period of silence, Bismark spoke up.

"We know. And before we tell you more, we want to know just what you want with it."

"I want nothing more than to keep it out of the hands of those who would use its power for their own greed and ambition. If that means destroying it, then so be it. I am here on behalf of my kingdom, small as it may be compared to your grand city, and I will do what I must to protect it."

Bismark smiled gravely. "That's good enough, I suppose. We're not sure what it is, but it certainly has power, make no mistake about that. You saw that power first-hand when you raised your sword to us earlier."

Draco had suspected as much, and as he glanced at Dune reaching for his shirt pocket, he knew exactly where the crystal must be as well. "So what do you intend to do with it?"

"Don't know," Bismark said. "We certainly aren't going to hand it over to the Committee, you can be sure of that. I guess we'll just keep holding onto it until something comes to us."

"Besides," Dune spoke up, "I don't think I could part with it even if I wanted. It seems to have...attached itself to me, and whenever it feels threatened, it stirs to life. Violently..."

Draco looked at the unassuming young man with his unnaturally gray-white hair and glasses. It was hard to believe how dangerous such a timid looking man could be, but he had seen that look of insanity and felt the coldness. He thought again of Cassandra, wild unpredictable Cassandra, demanding the crystal from him without a thought to her own safety. Just what had happened to her? Could Dune be lying about what had happened?

"I see no reason to demand it of you like Cassandra did," Draco said carefully. "But I cannot in good conscience leave you on your own with such a dangerous artifact."

Bismark ruffled at this, but Draco held his hand up. "No, I trust your friends to protect you as best they can, but I feel at this point you may need my assistance. I have an entire army at my disposal, and can offer asylum from anyone in Narsille that would try to attack you."

"Just who are you?" Indie asked sharply.

"Ah, forgive me! I suppose I never properly introduced myself. I am the lord-regent of West Jidorik, soon to be king once I return. I am here under the pretense of ambassador of peace for my country."

A stunned silence filled the room at this proclamation. Dune and his friends had assumed he must be nobility from his dress and demeanor, but a king? And this king was offering the aid of his entire nation to their cause? Suddenly their fight against the Committee's machinations didn't seem quite so hopeless.

Indie immediately bowed his head and said humbly, "I did not know, my lord! Had we known we were in the presence of royalty, we would have shown more respect."

"Please," Draco said. "Don't call me "my lord" or "king" or anything like that. You have treated me exactly as I wanted to be treated. I am a simple warrior who had the mantle of leadership thrust on me for a lucky victory. Do not act any differently than before. Right now, I am no more than a warrior offering his sword to you. Do you accept?"

Dune struggled to get his voice back, and said as calmly as he could, "We would be grateful more than you know if you would help us. To be honest, we were wondering how just the four of us could put up any resistance to the Committee, but it seems the answer has come to us unexpectedly. Will you really help us?"

Dune smiled at his good fortune. He had not smiled like this for a long time. Perhaps they really could save Mae now.

Draco returned his smile. "I will. I give you my word that I will help you in whatever way I can, even if it means my life."

"Will you accompany us to Crescent Island tomorrow, then?" Dune asked.

"Yes. You may consider me a bodyguard, if you like. I must remain hidden, however. The Committee does not know I am here with you, and I doubt they would be pleased to see me with you during the voyage. I must think of my people too, and Narsille has the power to decimate my country if they choose. However, I fear if they gain this power they are seeking, it will only be a matter of time before they reach out to conquer my land, whether they know I am helping you or not."

"I understand," Dune said. "They have my wife hostage, and it is for that reason we have agreed to this mission. My wife, your country...Narsille still holds our all our fates in their hands, it seems."

Draco inwardly tensed at Dune's revelation. If those scoundrels had taken Maria, he was not sure if he wouldn't have beheaded the lot of them right in the middle of the meeting room. But they would never reach her, and he sympathized with the poor Dune. No wonder he was so determined!

"I am sorry about your wife, Dune. I have a wife as well, and I would do no less than you to save her. For your wife, and for my country, we will stop these people. Tomorrow, I set sail with you."

"Thank you, Draco," Dune said wearily, but happily. "Now, I think it is time we left. Time is short, and we must be ready for tomorrow."

"Meet us at dawn by the eastern docks, pier 4," Bismark said. "My ship's there, the Maiden of the Sea. You'll recognize her, since she's the only ship that doesn't look like a floating refrigerator. She's a _real_ ship, not some Narsillian abomination. Stay out of sight, you hear? If the Committee sees you with us, things may get unpleasant, if you get my drift."

"Of course. Now, it is late, and I must prepare, as should you. Farewell, Captain. Farewell, Dune, Indie, Alex. Be safe."

"You, too." Dune said. The two men shook hands with vigor, bonded by the stranglehold that the Committee had over them both. From enemies they were now friends, and they both knew it. With a real smile, Dune put his hat back on and followed his friends out the door. Soon, everything would be put right.

On their way back to their separate homes, Dune said good-bye to Alex and Bismark, and continued to his apartment tower with Indie. The old man not only ran his shop at the base of Dune's building, he also lived there, as was usually the case with shop owners in the city. Dune had rarely ever seen Indie outside of his shop, though, until the two had been unexpectedly thrust into their shared fate by the Committee.

As the two men trudged through the rain towards their tower, Indie looked at the sky and shook his head. After a moment he spoke to Dune in a more serious tone than he had ever heard the usually jovial man speak.

"Dune," Indie said quietly, still looking at the sky. "Do you remember your father at all?"

"My father...?" Dune said, surprised once again by the mention of his father. What did Indie know of his father?

"I only remember his face. I was very young when he died. I remember it was a strong face, and full of goodness. Why?"

"Dune, did your mother ever tell you how your father died?"

Now Dune was curious, and a little frightened. What had gotten into Indie?

"She said he was lost at sea on an expedition, but nothing else. I always asked, but she never went into details. She would just start to cry, and soon I stopped asking."

"My boy, your father was one of the bravest men I have ever known," Indie said with feeling. He was still looking up at the sky, as if remembering long forgotten adventures.

"Indie, what do you know? Why are you talking about my father now of all times?"

"A long time ago, your father, Mobius, Alex, and myself all went on a mission very much like the one we're going on tomorrow. Your father never came back. He gave his life so that we could live. This sky...it feels the same as it did back then. We though we had finished that nasty business, but fate has a way of catching up with everyone, I suppose."

"You were with my father? All of you?" Dune was trembling. He had not expected to ever know the truth of his father's death, much less from the old shopkeeper who sold trinkets at the base of his building!

"It was a long time ago, like I said. But I feel you need to know what happened back then, maybe to prevent it from happening again. Looking at those clouds up there, I think it's time you were told. Mobius should have told you long ago, but he doesn't like to talk about the past, especially that past."

"Captain Bismark knew, too?" Dune couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at the man who had been like a father for so long. Why hadn't the captain ever told him?

"Yes, he knew, but don't blame him for keeping silent. We all kept silent after the incident, and perhaps we shouldn't have. There were many things that should have been said, but we respected the wishes of the Order and said nothing. Looking at what the Order has become in recent years, perhaps that was a mistake."

"The Order was involved too?" Dune said, stunned. All this, and he never knew any of it. He felt like a child as the old man revealed one hidden memory after another.

"Many people were involved, Dune," Indie said sadly. "But let us get out of this rain first. It feels like the clouds are listening to us, and who knows who else might be, too. Come."

The two men walked through the front entrance, and sat down behind Indie's shop. There was no one on the floor except them. Everyone was locked way in their rooms, asleep, or just afraid of the storm.

"First, I must apologize," Indie said once they were seated in the little backroom of his store Indie called home. It was a modest home, despite the man's great achievements. Indie's moogle, Kumiro, greeted his friend and master happily as soon as they entered the room. Reading his master's feelings perfectly, he remained quiet and sat on a little cushion beside them, as well behaved as any human.

"Dune," Indie continued, "I was not entirely honest when I said it was pure chance that I set up shop in the very same building that the son of my friend lived in."

Dune started to speak, but Indie held up a finger and continued speaking. "When Silas died, he entrusted your care to Mobius, but as I'm sure you know, he is not much of a family man. He was awkward in the position, but he did not betray your father's last wish. He did the best he could, and we helped him as best we could. I offered to look after you once you had grown and moved here. Mobius needed the open seas, and Alex was needed underground to maintain the power plants. I was not needed very often after my weather machine was set up, though, so I decided to look after you while you lived here."

Dune looked at Indie a little suspiciously. He had never seen the strange old man outside of his shop, and yet he was watching over him the whole time?

"No, no, I didn't spy on you, and I certainly wasn't a spy for the Committee," Indie said with a smile, reading Dune's train of thought. "That much of what I said when we met that day was true. You are a grown man, Dune. We don't need to look after you any more, but just in case you ever were in trouble, we had pledged ourselves to you. Before you had ever even met us, we were already your friends, and we would never completely abandon you." Indie stopped, and wiped his eyes, looking at Dune with a warmth the young man had never seen before.

"And as a friend, and maybe even as a father, just a little, I am proud of what you've become, my boy. We all are, even Mobius. Silas would be glad to know his son followed in his footsteps, not just professionally, but as a human being. You father was a good man, and we all believed in him. Now, we all believe in you, Dune."

Dune was overcome with emotion. This was a talk he had always wanted to have with his father, with the captain, with anybody. But his mother could not talk to him like this, not after his father's death. She had distanced herself from the world, and now she did not even speak to her son. Dune guessed she was bitter at what his father's friends had dragged his father into, and how they had attached themselves to him afterwards. He wondered how his mother was, and wondered just what kind of man his father really was. Now was the time to find out. Dune took a deep breath, and asked the question he had waited his entire life to ask.

"Indie, tell me about my father."


	57. Confluence, 'Into the Forbidden'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.6 - Into the Forbidden**

The next day dawned with the same overcast sky as the previous days. There was no morning sun to greet the nervous citizens of Narsille, only the same grey mass of thunderclouds swirling slowly around the city like a giant whirlpool in the sky. But the daily responsibilities of the city's workers could not stop, and at the eastern docks of the great city life went on with a muted sense of duty.

These docks were built next to the city's primary water source, the Lethe River. Flowing steadily eastward for many miles, it started high in the snow-capped mountains behind the city, flowing deep underground at first, then emerging in the east as it winded through valleys and canyons towards the great eastern sea, where Crescent Island awaited. It was the hidden beginning of this very river that Dune had traversed on his harrowing journey under Narsille, and now he would travel its course once again.

At the moment, Dune was already aboard Captain Bismark's ship, waiting anxiously for the appointed hour that this new journey would begin. Indie had told him the entire story of his father's heroic journey thirty years ago, and he could feel the weight of his father's legacy on his shoulders. If it came time for him to act the way his father had, giving his life in order to save not only his friends, but the entire world, could he do it? Dune did not feel like anybody's hero, and his only goal at the moment was trying to save Mae. Leave saving the world to the real heroes, he thought. Men like Draco. He was only a simple archeologist.

Dune looked out over the ship's rails at the docks as he waited for the ship to set sail. Sailors and Narsillian workers crowded the docks despite the weather, loading and unloading countless crates full of exotic supplies that allowed the Narsillians to live the life of luxury they enjoyed. Dune watched them scurry back forth, feeling like he no longer belonged with them. The trying events of the past few months had made him acutely aware of how trivial and boring life in Narsille was compared to the outside world. He thought back to Dr. Atma's words on board the Figaro so long ago, and found himself agreeing with the cynical man's opinions much more now than he did back then. He sighed at the thought of agreeing with that unpleasant man and continued to wait anxiously.

Glancing to his sides, Dune could see lines of Narsillian ships up and down the docks, looking very much like the giant floating refrigerators that Bismark had called them. They were all metal and gleamed with the blue-white glow of mythril-strengthened steel sides. Full of sharp angles and jutting corners, they were not at all streamlined like regular ships, and didn't need to be. Powerful motors propelled the ships like missiles through the waters, and the Maiden would have trouble keeping up with them if the winds weren't right. Dune knew Bismark had motors on his ship as well, any serious sea-farer had to in this day and age, but he was loathe to use them unless absolutely needed.

Dune laughed at the captain's old-fashioned stubbornness, but stopped cold when he saw an unwelcome sight on board one of the Narsillian vessels a few piers down. Sade, Dehr and Cruz were boarding their ship as well, and Dune knew it was almost time to leave. The three surely could see the awkward Maiden among all the shining Narsille ships, but they made no attempt to contact it. Everything that needed to be said had been said the day before.

Soon after the Committee trio had disappeared inside their ship, a hooded figure in plain clothes cautiously approached the Maiden from the opposite side as the Committee's ship. Dune watched the person slowly walk towards the ship, then glance back towards the Committee ship before reaching the Maiden. He lifted his hood and Dune recognized the regal features of Draco Christophe at once. Even disguised as a regular Narsillian, Draco still carried the aura of a king.

"Draco! You made it!" Dune said in a quiet voice, not wanting to attract attention. The two men shook hands as Dune helped Draco on board the ship.

"Yes," Draco said in an equally subdued tone. "I don't think the Committee members saw me. I told Barden to return to West Jidorik at once and watch over the castle in my stead until I return. As far as anyone here knows, I am leaving with him."

"Good," Dune said. "We should be setting sail soon. The Captain, Indie, and Alex are already on board."

"Then I will join them inside. I must admit, a ship such as this is a welcome sight to my foreign eyes. Sometimes the technology of this place can be overwhelming. I can't imagine how those Narsillian ships even stay afloat. Come, Dune. Join me down below. I am eager to be away from this place."

"Of course," Dune agreed. He, too, had seen enough of the dreary city, and was anxious to get away from the ominous storm above. He half wondered if it wouldn't follow them out of the city, and shivered at the thought as he went below.

Dune's fears proved groundless, however, and once the two ships had set sail eastward, the sun soon began to shine. It was a welcome sight, but everyone on board knew how quickly the weather could change, especially when they were on another mission sponsored by the Committee.

The journey down the river was blessedly uneventful, and after four days they had reached the mouth of the Lethe River, and were halfway towards their destination. The long river had brought them to the edge of the eastern sea, known as the Serpent's Sea due to its long and narrow shape. On its south-eastern tip was Crescent Island, waiting for them patiently.

Unlike the Mordic half-way across the world to the west, the Serpent's Sea was a peaceful and beautiful place, teeming with life both above and below the waters. Massive underwater currents coursed up and down its length in a great cycle, making travel easy in both directions. In what seemed like no time at all, the ships had unceremoniously reached the southern shore of Crescent Island. There had been no monsters and no storms to bother them this time. Indeed, it seemed like the seas were safely guiding them to this point. The crew of the Maiden hoped the rest of the journey would be this peaceful, but they knew in their hearts it would not.

Crescent Island itself, true to its name, was shaped in a great arc, like that of a waning moon. On its western side was a great chain of mountains, forming the inner curve of the crescent. Standing on deck as the ship closed in, Dune peered out at the intimidating sight. He had never seen mountains so high, and wondered what could have formed them. They plummetted into the ocean below in a sheer drop several miles high, as if a giant had scooped out half the island. Towering waterfalls burst out of caverns high on the mountainside, flowing precipitously down into the churning waters below. They looked like exposed arteries, bleeding great gouts of foamy water downward from the gaping wound that was the mountain range.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" a voice spoke up from beside Dune. Dune turned around in surprise, and saw Alex standing beside him, peering at the severe mountainscape with just as much interest as him. Alex looked back at him and smiled.

"That isn't natural, you know." Alex said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" Dune said, eager to here what the geologist had to say on the strange mountains.

"Something happened here eons ago," Alex continued serenely. "Something extremely violent. Either something crashed here from above, or something erupted from below. I'm not sure which yet, but hopefully this mission will answer that question for me."

"Didn't Draco say the natives believe a moon fell here?"

"Yes. Your father studied the natives here thoroughly, during his early years, and it was here I first met him."

Dune looked at Alex in surprise. His father's life seemed as intertwined with these old men as much as his own. What other surprises about his father might he learn on this voyage?

"Don't look so surprised, Dune!" Alex said with a grin. "While your father studied its people, I studied the land. This island is both a geological and archeological gold mine, filled with all sorts of mysteries to the few brave enough to venture out this far. Some say a moon fell here, some say this very spot is where the world began. Others say a great evil sleeps here." Alex's smile disappeared as he spoke now. "The natives believe the highest peak of that range holds a demon, and worship the mountain as a sort of protector, keeping the demon from destroying the world. I suspect that peak is our destination."

"Do you believe those stories?" Dune asked incredulously. He did not put much faith in the folk tales of primitives, and found it hard to believe his father had. Even after the extraordinary events that he had lived through, and the strange story about Phoenix Isle that Indie had told him, he still was a firm believer in science and logic. Alex and Indie may be willing to jump to "magic" as a valid explanation for things, but Dune was still reluctant, although much less so now than he had been a few months ago.

"Still stubborn, eh?" Alex said good-naturedly. "That's alright. It takes a lot to shake a man from his most deeply held beliefs. I honestly hope you aren't forced to that extreme, Dune. For your sake. Having everything you thought you knew thrown to the wind can be a trying ordeal, one that I wouldn't wish upon anyone."

Alex looked at the loftiest of the visible peaks as the ship steered towards land, trying to see anything unusual through the clouds. There was nothing to see, however. The mountains cliffs climbed into the sky, higher than even the towers of Narsille, and nothing could be seen after a certain height. He turned his gaze to Dune, a sad look on his suddenly very old face.

"But we all have to grow up, sometime, I suppose..." he said quietly to himself, and walked away.

Soon the two ships had reached a safe harbor on the other side of the island. The mountains filled the western rim of the island, but on the other side was flat land filled with lush tropical forests and uninterrupted shorelines. This was how the entire island was supposed to look, Dune thought. Something horrible must have happened here to turn such a quiet, uninteresting landscape into the fierce jagged teeth on the island's other side. And he was heading straight into those jaws.

Along the white sands of the approaching beach several small huts could be seen with tanned half-naked natives walking among them carelessly. These must be the primitives Alex was talking about. Dune had never been as adventurous as his father, and had never even left the continent that Narsille was located on, so he knew little of the history of these people. His father knew them, though. Dune supposed his father knew a great deal about the world that Dune did not. Dune could hear the captain's voice in the back of his head saying "Some archeologist!" and couldn't help but smile as he studied the oblivious natives of the island.

Soon, those oblivious natives began noticing the two strange objects approaching their village, though. They began to line up along the shoreline, comparing the large foreign boats to their tiny wooden canoes. The Maiden attracted some attention, but most of the natives were staring at the glowing Narsillian vessel just ahead of the Maiden. The Maiden at least vaguely resembled their own ships. The squarely-shaped Narsillian ship looked like something from another planet to them, and some of the fainter hearted villagers had already shied away inside their huts.

When the Narsillian ship landed and Sade, Dehr and Cruz walked down onto the beach, however, the opinion of the natives took an unexpected turn. All eyes were on Sade and Sade alone the moment he stepped ashore. One of the natives screamed and ran for the nearest hut, and soon the others began running helter-skelter, trying to hide from view of the black-robed man with fire-red hair. Many of the natives were yelling the same word as they fled from Sade's presence, hands over the heads in fear of some hidden strike from above.

Sade paid no attention to the natives, and walked with calm assurance across the beach and towards the forest line. Dehr followed him with equal, albeit feigned calmness, with Cruz scurrying behind them, looking nervously this way and that for a hidden spear thrust from the crazy natives around them.

"What do you make of that?" Dune asked, now joined by much of the crew of the Maiden. They had watched the spectacle from their ship as it closed in behind the Committee's.

"Don't know," Bismark said half-amused at the natives' behavior. "What was that word they all kept shouting? 'Shetani', or something? Do you know what that means?"

Surprisingly, Dune did.

"It means 'evil spirit', or I suppose 'poltergeist' would be closer. Basically, it's someone possessed by a demon," Dune said, surprised to hear the word on this strange island. It sounded remarkably like the language spoken by the oldest known inhabitants of the Narsillian area. More guttural perhaps, but definitely the same language, or a close relative.

"Hah, you'd make your father proud, Dune," Bismark laughed, not a little impressed. "I suppose you may be a half-decent archeologist after all."

"And those natives have the measure of Sade alright," Indie said. "I'd run from him too if I had any choice in the matter."

They all agreed on this and got ready to disembark for the beach. The Committee members had paused at the forest line and now waited silently for the Maiden crew. Dune could feel Sade's red gaze on him, and dreaded following him into the dark forest ahead. But he knew he had to keep moving.

As Dune, Bismark, Indie, and Alex left their ship, there was a similar reaction from the remaining natives. Many of them stood and pointed at Dune as he passed them, others ran and hid like before. Dune did not like the looks of fear and hate on their faces.

"What are they saying now?" Bismark asked.

"Baridi," Dune said grimly. "It means 'cold one' I think. Something like a zombie, I suppose."

No one made a remark at this, knowing full well it was Dune they were talking about. Somehow these primitives could sense something was off about both Sade and Dune. Something not completely human. The four continued past the frightened villages and towards the forest where the other group waited.

As soon as he saw the Maiden crew approaching them, Sade turned without a word and disappeared down what looked like a cleared path in the forest. Dehr waved at the four to follow them, and then disappeared as well, with Cruz at her heels.

"Hmph, keeping their distance, I see." Bismark remarked as they followed the Committee members into the jungle.

"We outnumber them four to three," Alex said. "They probably don't trust us to be civil out here away from any reinforcements."

"They're probably right," Bismark said with a savage grin as the four disappeared down the dark path through the jungle undergrowth.

Dune couldn't help but be excited by his surroundings, despite the welcome he had received. The jungle floor was full of exotic life, and he wondered at the ancient path that cut through it perfectly. It was actually _paved _with square stones. The villagers did not look like they had the knowledge to construct a road like this, much less maintain it. And yet the road was perfectly clear of plants or animals, as if it had just been laid yesterday. Dune had to admit - this island was turning out to be very interesting.

This trudging through thick jungle might have been new to Dune, but Bismark, Indie and Alex all had the same sobering thought running through their minds - _This is too much like before._

Back on board the Maiden, Draco waited anxiously with the rest of the crew. He could not join the others on this part of the journey, or he would surely be recognized. It was difficult for a man of action as he was to sit in relative comfort while his comrades marched into battle, but he knew he had to be prudent or he would only endanger them all. Besides, he was a stranger among allies, and this was a good chance for him to catch up on everything that had happened to this crew recently.

While the events on shore played out, Draco sat below with Connor, one of Bismark's most trusted ship-hands, and discussed the many adventures the ship had been on over the years. He shared his own tales of adventure in his country, and found he liked the crew of the Maiden very much. They trusted and admired Captain Bismark just like Draco's own soldiers looked to him. Talking with them was almost like being home again.

One crew member seemed out of place with all the rest, however. She was a small girl that couldn't be more than 14 years old. She looked like she had been found in the middle of the street, with her wild unruly hair and wretched clothing hanging off her thin frame, but her large eyes beamed with intelligence and curiosity. She sat quietly on the floor next to the table where Draco and Connor sat, her boney legs crossed awkwardly. There was a look of rapt attention on her face as the two men talked. After a while, Draco couldn't help but ask about the strange girl.

"Oh her?" Connor answered with a smile. "She's Kite. She's sort of attached herself to our crew ever since Alex rescued her from Levi's bunch."

The girl woke from her reverie at the mention of her name, and blushed deeply. She turned her wide eyes down quickly and looked away, forcing a good-natured laugh from Connor and a few other crew members.

"Now now, Kite," Connor said kindly. "You don't have to be so shy all the time. Come here and introduce yourself to Draco."

Kite slowly looked at the man called Draco. She was always afraid of strangers, always assuming they would hate her or hurt her. Her time on board Jonah Levi's ship had been a nightmare she thought would never end, and she had been abused much during her seven years aboard that prison-ship. Even before Levi had found her on the streets of her town she had learned to fear the world.

She was an orphan, abandoned to the streets, and had known little kindness in her life. Levi had paid attention to her when most people ignored her, and at first she followed him willingly. She soon found out what kind of man Jonah Levi was, if he was a man at all. But it was too late by then. She was as good as a prisoner on his ship, and was treated no better than a dog both by Levi and by his crew of thugs. The things that were done to her she would never speak to another living soul, but she had developed a distinct fear of men that many of the crew of the Maiden recognized with sadness once they got past the idea of having a member of Levi's crew on board.

It had been hard at first, but thanks to her hero, Alex, she had managed to adjust as best she could. It was Alex who had saved her, and she knew it and practically worshipped him. Many of the crew did not like the idea of having one of Levi's on their ship, but Alex had rebuked anyone who said anything against her. It was Alex who had treated her with the first kindness she had ever known in her life. Real kindness, not the fake kindness Levi had lured her with. Alex treated her like his own daughter, partly because she resembled his actual daughter, he had admitted. And she had quickly came to view Alex as a sort of father, too.

Thanks in no small part to Alex's untiring defense of her, and also because of her own disarmingly shy nature, the crew had warmed to her quickly enough. By the time Alex had left the ship for Narsille, the entire crew had been endeared to her as a sort of lost cause. They all treated her with kindness now, and did their best to make her feel like part of the crew. Even the gruff Captain Bismark didn't seem to mind her presence, and she had once heard him say "Any friend of Alex's is fine by me. She can stay as long as she likes." when asked what to do with her.

Now she looked at this new man warily. He seemed nice, but that old fear still crept through her and paralyzed her. She tried to say something, but only opened her mouth stupidly and blushed fiercely. She was such a fool!

"Don't mind her Draco," Connor said. "She's damn shy, especially around strangers, but she's the sweetest thing you'll ever see, trust me." Connor looked at Kite and softly nodded to her to try and introduce herself again.

Kite swallowed hard and spoke nervously. "H-how do you d-do, Mr. Christophe? I'm K-kite."

Draco's heart was warmed instantly at the poor girl's efforts. "Hello, Kite. You can just call me Draco. So Alex Figaro saved you, hm? How do you like him?"

Draco was only trying to make conversation, but the subject of Alex Figaro seemed to send a jolt of electricity through the girl. She blushed deeper than ever and buried her face in her hands, unable to speak. Draco just sat there in surprise at her strange reaction.

"Alex is a bit of an idol to her, Draco," Connor explained. "She practically worships the ground he walks on. Mention him and she quivers like a young pup in love." Connor turned to Kite with stern amusement and pleaded with her. "Kite, come on, snap out of it, it was only question. It's alright, he won't make fun of you."

"Sorry...," Kite mumbled through her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. "Alex saved my life. He's...he's a great man," she finished with a monumental effort.

Draco smiled. "He is indeed. I am glad to have met him, and you as well, Kite."

Kite returned his smile. He didn't seem so bad.

"You should see her on the ropes," Connor said with an almost fatherly tone. "She's as nimble as a cat, and can run circles around any of the others. I don't know how she learned to climb like that, but it's something to see."

"Is that so?" Draco said affectionately.

"Yeah," Kite said with some confidence. "I spent a lot of time climbing up stuff on my old ship." She became quiet at the mention of her previous life. She had spend a great deal of time escaping the filthy hand's of Levi's crew, indeed.

"We know, Kite," Connor said slowly. "You're safe here, now. Don't ever forget that." Draco nodded his head in agreement. Everyone was silent for a moment before continuing with their talk of wars and sea voyages.

Kite knew they were telling the truth, but some nightmares were difficult to forget, and even now she sometimes woke up in the middle of the night screaming, unable to stop herself. No one on the ship mentioned this to her, but they knew, and hated Levi and his crew all the more because of their unspeakable treatment of the poor girl. Their only consolation was that Levi and his men were gone now, dragged to the bottom of the sea where they belonged.

Outside the Maiden, a new uproar was occurring, unbeknownst to the Maiden or Narsillian crews. A third arrival had landed on the poor villagers' shores, and their reaction to this newcomer was nothing short of pure, naked terror.

The vessel that appeared shortly after the first two was something eerily close to their own canoes. It was a small battered rowboat with two occupants. How it had managed to come this far over the wide ocean was a great mystery to the villagers, but here it was, bobbing towards them.

The rower slowly kept the vessel moving steadily forward while the other traveler stood at its prow and looked outwards to the village in silence. The haggard rower kept the boat moving even after it had reached shallow waters, and kept on rowing right up to the beach's sands. Only once the man at the prow raised his hand did the rower stop.

The man at the prow stepped off the little boat, walking with an unusual gait. He only had one good leg, and the other was wooden. He was dressed in a wretched-looking coat covered in mildewy green stains. What color it might have been was impossible to say through its tattered, weather-beaten appearance. It was the color of decay.

The ghastly man's face was even worse. His dirty-grey hair hang dankly from his head in long, thin strands, barely covering his balding pate. His one good eye gleamed with an evil playfulness, but where his other eye should have been was only a black orb, pulsing with electric malevolence. Lightning seemed to swirl and crackle inside the dark eye. His mouth was curled into a rictus grin of maniacal delight, full of rotting yellow teeth, and only widened as he saw the natives faces go pale with fear.

He laughed as he limped across the beach. It was a raspy, empty laugh, full of death. His dread laugh carried across the beach, sending the villagers running for their lives. This apparition was far worse than the previous two, and many villagers were now abandoning the village entirely, leaping onto their canoes and rowing as if possessed. Others fled to the forest. Some simply fainted.

It was as foretold - the three would come carrying death, and the world would end.

Behind the dead man came the other, as if he were connected like a puppet. This man was covered from head to toe in ragged scraps of what was once clothing, his features impossible to make out, if he had any features at all. If the villagers could see his face, they would see something that might have once been human, but now was more dead than alive. It was a skull, skin and muscle barely there at all. The eyes were cold and lifeless, sunken far into his hairless head. The man was almost too emaciated to be believed, already past all human bounds of endurance. But here he was, rowing, standing, and now following the other man as if in a trance. Phantom was no more. Now he was nothing but a slave to the overwhelming power of his master.

By this time the village by the beach was abandoned, save for the two men. The first man continued to laugh loudly and horribly all the way to the forest, his black eye sending off sparks as he went. Where the eye's sparks fell, flames erupted. Before the two men had even vanished into the forest, the entire village was in flames, and by the time the men on board the two ships could notice what was happening, the village was nothing but ashes, its people no where to be found.

Jonah Levi's hellish laugh echoed through the air still, full of death and destruction. Inside the Maiden, Kite began shivering uncontrollably, gripped by an instinctive fear she could only name in her nightmares. She screamed, and Levi continued to laugh.


	58. Confluence, 'To the Source'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.7 - To the Source**

"Levi is here."

Sade said this to no one in particular as he walked calmly and surely along the ancient stone-paved path through the jungle. Dehr and Cruz followed him, but looked like mice being lead by a cat. They were very much out of their element here in the wilds.

"Huff...how..how could you possibly know that?" Cruz panted miserably from the rear as he struggled to keep up with the others. His portly body and short legs were not meant for expeditions like this, and he had been whining and grumbling like a child since entering the forest.

Sade said nothing, but kept walking forward at his brisk, determined pace.

"Well? Answer me, already!" Cruz shouted in frustration. He was sweating all over, the bugs were biting every inch of him, and he kept hearing strange noises from every dark place alongside the path. He was obviously nearing his breaking point, but neither Dehr nor Sade showed him any pity.

Sade remained silent a moment longer, and just when Cruz was about to explode he smiled and spoke as if he only just now had heard Cruz's initial question.

"I feel it, here," he said as he pointed to his chest. "The voice of the Goddess sings of destruction and fear, and I hear her song now like a clarion in my mind. It is such beautiful music, can't you feel it?"

"All I hear is the animals in the forest howling and my own breathing. I think I'm dying. Can't we stop and wait for the others to catch up?" Cruz's voice was a whine now, and was beginning to grate on Sade's nerves.

"Be quiet and keep moving," Sade snapped. "The closer we get to the Source, the harder it will be for the power of the Three to be contained. I do not trust Dune to behave, and I trust Levi not at all."

Sade stopped abruptly and turned his head to look at the mewling figure of Cruz behind him. Cruz winced at his hard gaze. "You are free to stop and wait for Dune if you like. You can even wait for Levi for all I care. I'm sure he'd be happy to have you at his side." Sade smiled his most sadistic smile and started walking again.

Cruz paled at the mention of Jonah Levi. The man was by all accounts dead and drowned half a world away, but Sade claimed he was right behind them. Suddenly Cruz renewed his efforts to keep up with the others. There were things far more frightening than animal noises, bugs, and heat in the world. Cruz was beginning to wonder why he had ever followed these two to the ends of the earth.

Dehr remained silent throughout Sade's and Cruz's exchange, seemingly unaffected by her surroundings. Inside, though, she was just as frightened as Cruz, and was wondering herself just what had driven her this far in her quest for power. Perhaps this power Sade promised wasn't something she really wanted after all.

It was too late now, though. Far too late. Sade's almost hypnotic personality had dragged both her and Cruz here, and she felt with growing certainty that he was leading them to their own destruction, like lambs to an altar.

The three continued down the road, which was now ascending sharply upwards as it neared the great mountain range on the other side of the island.

A short distance behind Sade's group, Dune's group was making their own way down the path. The atmosphere surrounding this group was not nearly as oppressive as Sade's, and the unavoidable sense of foreboding both groups felt mingled with wonder here. These were weary men out to stop a great evil if they could, but they were also scientists exploring unknown territory.

"This path is amazing, isn't it Dune?" Alex remarked as they walked. His face had been turned downward since they started on the path.

"Yes, it is," Dune said back, also looking downward as often as he could. "The stone blocks are obviously thousands of years old, yet there is no sign of any plant growth on them at all. It's as if the plants instinctively know not to grow here."

"No signs of any animals frequenting the path, either," Indie spoke up from the back.

"Or people, 'cept for us," Bismark finished.

"Yes," Alex continued, thinking aloud. "What's even more amazing is that this path was not here when I last visited this island. Yet, it _must_ have been. As you said, Dune, these stone blocks were plainly carved thousands of years ago from the look of them."

"By who, though?" Dune asked Alex, hoping he knew some of his father's research here.

"Not by the people we saw on the beach, that's for sure. This workmanship, though...it looks so familiar..." Alex stopped walking as if struck, and the others stopped and looked at him.

"What's wrong?" Bismark asked.

"I know where I've seen stone work like this before, and so do you Mobius, and you too, Indie."

"What?" Bismark started, but he fell silent and looked at Alex, his thoughts coming into line with Alex's in a burst of memory. Indie's face showed that he, too, had remembered.

"Phoenix Isle..." all three of the old men said quietly.

"It must be..."

"So these people..."

"Silas was right, but he never knew the source until..." Alex finished.

"My father?" Dune spoke up, feeling lost. "What did my father know?"

Indie and Bismark fell silent, and let Alex speak.

Alex collected his thoughts for a moment, putting as many pieces together as he could.

"As I told you before, Dune, your father studied this island's people extensively. He never saw this path either, but he knew the people currently living here must have come from somewhere else originally, and that the original inhabitants of the island were long extinct. He could tell that the current people had migrated here about two thousand years ago, but the original civilization was far older, perhaps as old as five thousand years. He suspected they were far more advanced than the current inhabitants, but couldn't guess where these new people had come from, or what had happened to the original people."

"But you think you know?" Dune asked, his curiosity growing.

"I think I know more now than I did then, thanks to my travels to Phoenix Isle thirty years ago. These people, they are refugees from the Phoenician Empire. When their island home was destroyed two thousand years ago, some of the survivors made their way here, and some..."

"...And some of them made it to Narsille!" Dune finished excitedly. That was why he recognized their language. It wasn't exactly the same as ancient Narsillian, but it was close. Close enough that both languages had come from the same source - ancient Phoenician.

"You are your father's son," Alex said bemusedly. "You're right, of course. The Order of the Pearl survived the destruction of their homeland, and made its way to Narsille, where it mingled with our land's original inhabitants and prospered. The people here, however, reverted to a primitive culture in the absence of any civilization to help them. Which means that the people who lived here before the Phoenicians came were probably already gone..." Alex became silent as he thought about this mystery.

"So my father never knew who the original people were?" Dune asked as Alex thought silently.

"No, but he had his theories," Alex said, trying to put the pieces together. There was a great mystery here, and he felt they were on the verge of solving it.

Dune opened his mouth to prod Alex further, but he shut it with a snap and stood stock still, as if struck by lightning. His hair stood on end and his eyes went wide. He turned around sharply and looked back behind them with a look of terror on his face.

The others were shaken from their pleasant thoughts about the island's history at once. Something had happened, but only Dune seemed to have sensed anything.

"What is it, Dune?" Bismark asked.

"Don't you feel it?" Dune said through clenched jaws, as if holding back a scream. "It's...it's _Levi_."

"What?" all three men said in unison.

"He's here. Behind us. I can feel him. I can hear him in my mind. He's laughing..." Dune's voice trailed off as if he were falling into a trance. He almost began to walk back towards the beach while he spoke, but Bismark grabbed hold of him and shook him, hard.

"Snap out of it! Levi's dead, Dune!"

"No..." Dune murmured, still in a daze, struggling against Bismark. "He's here...he's laughing...and SHE'S singing..."

"Dune!"

Bismark slapped Dune across the face, and the young man's eyes snapped back into focus. The look of utter terror was still in them, though.

"Captain! Levi is here! I know it sounds impossible, but you have to trust me. I feel him, here." Dune clutched the pocket where the crystal slept. It let out a soft pulse of coldness at Dune's touch.

The others looked at each other worriedly. Was it true? Dune's uncanny powers of detection when using the crystal had been demonstrated before. But this was different. Levi had no business being here, or anywhere else among the living of the world.

"Dune, what are you saying?" Indie asked slowly.

"Levi survived, and he has the third crystal." Dune explained, as best he could. "That must be what I'm feeling. He's here for the same reason we are. Sade, myself, Levi...we are being drawn here, all of us."

"But why, and by who?" Alex asked, mystified.

"I don't know...but it's powerful. Now that Levi's here, I feel it's power growing. I can feel Sade, and I can feel Levi. The crystals are responding to each other, I think." Dune began to slowly walk forward again as he spoke, away from the beach.

"It's up there..." Dune spoke as he walked forward. He pointed down the path and up into the air, straight through the trees. Nothing could be seen through the thick canopy, but they all knew at what he must be pointing. The highest peak of the great mountain range they had seen from the ship.

"The Source is up there," Dune continued.

"Source? Source of what?"

Dune seemed to come to himself again for a moment. "I don't know. I can hear it in my mind, calling out to me. The Source. That's all I know."

"This is getting a little creepy for me," Bismark said as nonchalantly as he could, but there was fear in his face now.

"Well, it seems we're in a bit of a tough spot," Indie said. "We've got Sade ahead of us, and if Dune is right, Levi behind us."

"So what do we do?" Alex asked.

"We keep moving." Dune said with conviction. "We came here to stop whatever it is Sade's planning if we can, right?"

"Right." Bismark agreed. "We keep moving. Even if that dog Levi is back there, we've got to keep going forward, wherever this road leads. I'm getting a bad feeling about this whole mess, but we came here for a reason, and I'm sticking to it."

"You're right, of course," Indie said with a smile.

"Let's go," Alex finished.

The four men steeled themselves and started moving forward with a new determination. There was no going back now. They no longer speculated about the mysteries of the island around them as they walked. With the thought of Levi coming back to haunt them once again, any desire for small talk faded away.

Soon, they reached the point where the path began its ascent upwards into the mountains. The forests gradually receded, and the smell of cold mountain air wafted downwards into their noses. The stone path continued upwards, cleaving a path straight up into the mountains like a great stairway to the heavens.

Once the forest was beneath them, the path began to curve around the mountain side. A new smell greeted their noses as they veered away from the forest line. It was the salty smell of the ocean. The roar of rushing water filled their ears as the wall of the mountain side curved away from them and the open sky came into view. They had traveled around the mountains and were now on the opposite side of the island, facing the ocean.

"Amazing..." Alex couldn't help but say as he peered downwards.

They were far higher up than they would have guessed. The stone road followed the curve of the mountain range perilously close to the cliff's edge, and the men could easily look out at the great bay formed by the mountain range's crescent-shaped path of destruction. A fall from this height would mean instant death in the raging waters below.

The waterfalls they had seen from the ship were all around them now, so loud they were almost painful. Some spouts broke free from the cliff wall below them, some far above. Somehow the road remained free of their violent courses, and the four men moved onward in careful awe as great arcs of water shot over them harmlessly and fell into the waters below. Like the plants and animals, it was as if the very water knew not to disturb this ancient road.

As the men climbed higher, the air grew thinner and the temperature began to drop. Where it was hot and humid in the jungle below, it was close to freezing now. There was no sign of life at this height. The shrubs and grasses that had replaced the trees had since faded, and no birds flew at this height. And yet the road wound onward and upward, never ceasing in its ascent towards the highest of the peaks.

"How much further do you think this road goes, Dune?" Bismark asked cautiously, wondering what Dune could sense.

"Not much longer now, Captain. Sade's still climbing ahead of us, and Levi is still behind us. The Source is close now, but we must climb higher."

"I'm getting too old for this," Bismark grunted, but he kept moving forward, his one leg beginning to ache at the unusual strain he had been putting on it. He was not used to this much walking, and he wasn't sure how much more walking he could bear. But he said nothing of this, and kept up with the others as surely as if he had two working legs.

The road now rose through a thick mist that could only be the clouds they had seen far below. It was now bone-chillingly cold, and the men knew if they didn't reach the end of this road soon, they would freeze to death. How anyone had managed to build a road like this so high up was beyond any of them. Even with the best technology Narsille had to offer, a road like this would have been impossible to construct in these conditions. And yet a civilization from five thousand years ago had done it.

"Dune, slow down...we can't keep up anymore," Indie said wearily. The freezing temperatures were taking their toll on the old men now, but Dune seemed unaffected.

"Sorry," Dune said, and made a conscious effort to slow his pace. "For some reason, I don't feel the cold at all. I think...I think it's because of the crystal. It seems to feed off the cold, and counter any temperature, hot or cold. It was the same under Narsille. I was able to travel across steaming hot pipelines to reach the inner sanctum of the Order, and they didn't burn me at all."

"We all aren't as lucky as you, Dune." Bismark grumbled. There was a note of worry in his voice now. "If this road doesn't stop soon, you may have to go on alone. No normal person could keep going like this."

Dune flinched at Bismark's words. "I don't consider myself lucky at all. This crystal has been nothing but a curse. I would much rather be living a normal life back home with my wife right now."

Bismark realized his rash words, and quickly apologized.

"Sorry, Dune. I know this wasn't your choice. We'll be behind you for as far as we can go, I promise."

Alex and Indie nodded in agreement, and the four continued to struggle upwards.

The cloud line was thinning away from them now and they had a clear view of the surrounding landscape. If it weren't for the trying conditions, it would have been a beautiful sight. The ocean was hidden from their eyes now, and the only thing they could see below was a swirling sea of white clouds in all directions. Above them was the clearest blue sky any of them had ever seen, with a piercingly bright sun shining down on them.

The various peaks of the mountains had thinned out by now, and only a few mountains still poked through the skyline to this great altitude. One peak in particular stood out above all the rest, and it was this mountain that the road was inexorably climbing towards. Now the road was almost like a bridge, leading straight into the great mountain ahead on a narrow tract of land that seemed to float on the sea of clouds.

Again the men marveled at the skill of the ancient masons, and the three older men began to wonder if there wasn't in fact something magical about this road. Surely no human could even survive for long at this height, let alone build such a perfectly straight road out of stone across the mountain range. The old men did not mention this to Dune, who they felt would not appreciate any mention of magic at this point. He would have to come to this truth in his own way and on his own terms, just as they all had.

"There." Dune pointed at a giant opening in the tallest peak, straight ahead of them now. "Inside there is where we have to go."

"Finally," Bismark said with great relief. "If we stayed out in this air any longer, I think I would have collapsed. I can barely breath up here and I'm already half frozen."

"Yes, this is definitely the peak I had pointed to from the ship," Alex remarked almost casually. "Amazing how high up we must be. This is likely the highest peak in the world, perhaps even higher than Mt. Kolts."

"Are we really that high, Alex?" Indie said with some disbelief. Mt. Kolts was over thirteen thousand meters tall, and was generally considered the highest peak in the world. To have climbed to that height so fast was amazing. They had only been climbing for half the day, when it normally took experienced mountain climbers sometimes a full week to scale Mt. Kolts.

Indie knew they had the advantage of a perfectly maintained road guiding them safely straight up the mountain sides, where a regular mountain would have to be scaled with picks and rope meter by meter. Add to that the comparative calmness of the surrounding area keeping them from freezing in a blizzard or dying of exposure, and soon Indie could very well believe the amazing feat they had nearly accomplished.

"I know it's hard to imagine, but here we are," Alex said. "Seeing as this road was seemingly not here, or at least not visible, last time I visited this island, I think it's safe to say we are being led here on purpose. There's no way three old men like us could climb this far, this fast otherwise."

"Hey now, I'm still strong enough to beat any mountain," Bismark said, and tried to laugh. It was too high up for anything so strenuous, though, and he only coughed and gasped. "Well, in any case, we'd better keep going and reach that cave before there's no air left," he finished thinly.

The men continued across the stone path, now a narrow stone bridge crossing the clouds to the other peak. Dune squinted and looked out across the bridge to the cavern. He couldn't see any sign of Sade, but he still felt him ahead. The three Committee members must already be inside, waiting for them. Were they walking into a trap?

After what seemed an eternity, they reached the other side of the stone bridge, and stood before the great mouth at the top of the world. The stone road continued straight into the mountain without any change. To the astonishment of the group, the path ahead was lit. There were torches flickering dimly along both sides of the cavern, dotting the road far down into the mountain.

"This is impossible..." Indie gasped. "There's no air up here! How can these torches even stay lit? And for that matter, who lit them?"

"Best not to ask questions that have no answers, Indie," Alex said sagely. If this great stone path had suddenly appeared out of nowhere for them, then why couldn't the torches as well? Hadn't Phoenix Isle itself risen from the waters with a full complement of life and stone structures? The feeling of coming full circle from thirty years ago was now weighing heavily on all the men's minds.

Only Dune seemed unaffected by the miracles around him. Whether he stubbornly refused to admit their existence, or felt he had some rational explanation for what he was seeing the old men didn't know, but they wondered how much longer he could stay aloof.

"Nothing to do but keep going," Bismark said after a brief silence. "At least it's warmer inside the cavern."

No one said anything more as they continued down the strange corridor. All along the walls they could see ancient writings carved with meticulous care. Dune instantly recognized the writing as the same undecipherable text he had seen on the walls of the Order stronghold, deep beneath Narsille. If Silas had been here, he would have recognized the writing as the very same language that was carved around the door that had sealed Jehad's fate on Phoenix Isle.

Deeper and deeper they descended now, climbing down into the very heart of the mountain. The endless line of otherworldly torches remained lit no matter how deep they went. The temperature steadily increased as well, and soon they were beginning to sweat uncomfortably.

After an hour of downward motion, the path began to level out and widen until they found themselves walking through a road that would have been wider than the main roads of Narsille. The ceiling of the cave had risen far above their heads into a pitch black darkness that the feeble torches couldn't reach. There was still nowhere to go but straight ahead into the abyss.

Finally, Dune stopped and put his hand up, signaling the others to halt. Wherever this road had been leading them, it seemed this was the end.

"What is it, Dune? Do you see something? Sade?" Bismark said in a whisper.

"I don't see anything yet, but I feel Sade very close, and something else. I don't know what it is, but it's...sad? Overwhelming sadness is all I can feel from it. Just a bit more and we'll see."

Does he even realize what he's doing? Alex thought to himself. Dune is talking about these things as if they are just normal human feelings. Surely he must realize the power he is channeling isn't anything that can be explained by science. Surely he must realize the supernatural quality to all of this. Surely you must see it now, Dune...

But Dune said nothing of what he believed, or thought he knew. He simply moved forward, slowly, cautiously, continuously. He was letting the crystal almost completely guide him now, its cold voice whispering into his mind incessantly as he approached the Source it had led him here to find.

After a few more paces, the torches flared up without warning and bathed the great cathedral-sized cavern in glorious light. Now the end of the ancient road was laid bare for everyone to see. At its terminus twenty meters ahead was an enormous gate, crafted from what looked like metal, but glimmering with an unearthly light that not even mythril could compete with. It was a mighty gate, as tall as the cavern itself, and wide enough for even the Figaro to fit through. The doors were firmly shut, inaccessible to any mortal intervention.

Carved across both doors was the giant figure of a winged being, his four angel-like wings stretched to the full width of the gate. Dune recognized it instantly. It was the same being he had seen in the central sanctum of the Order, the great mythril statue of the warrior deity. Like the statue, it had four arms along with its four wings. The upper two arms held scimitars, and the lower two a book and what Dune knew now must be a pearl. The one difference between this deity and the one in the Order sanctum was its face. Where the statue had given off the impression of peace, this carving gave off a definite aura of menace. This was the Order's supreme deity ready to pass judgment on anyone who passed through these gates. This was a god of war.

"Dune, look!" Indie whispered as he tried to shake Dune from his reverie. Dune slowly came back to his senses and looked to where Indie was pointing, and where everyone but him was now looking in open-mouthed wonder.

At the foot of the great gate stood a man, robed in blue. But it was much more than a man. The first thing Dune noticed were his wings. There were two magnificent white angel wings, each as large as the man himself, protruding from his back. They shone with a holy light that Dune had only seen once before - in the Pearl of Order that sat at the heart of the Order sanctum.

The second thing Dune noticed was that he was old. Unimaginably old. His face was almost hidden by the great white beard that flowed straight down to the floor of the cave, and his hair and eyebrows obscured most of the features of his face. Even from where he stood, though, Dune could still see the great furrows that marked his face as one of extreme age.

Then it hit Dune. This was the other presence he had felt here. This being was the source of the deep sadness he was feeling. Dune slowly stepped towards him, an overwhelming urge to comfort the man pulling him forward. Who was he that he should carry such a burden of sorrow? How long had he been alone here, at the end of the world?

"Stop!"

The voice rang out clearly and froze Dune where he stood, now only ten meters from the sealed gate and its guardian angel. Bismark and the others were also frozen in place, just behind Dune. The old man stood like a statue in front of the gate, but his message was perfectly clear.

"You must go no further, mortal!"

Dune could say nothing. His voice had vanished the moment the being had forced his will on him. The sadness was filling every inch of his soul now, and he could almost feel tears rising in his eyes as he looked at the ancient guardian.

"We will go further, however, Old One."

Sade's voice called out mockingly from Dune's left. No one in Dune's group had noticed him, waiting patiently in the dark corner of the room several dozen meters away. Dehr and Cruz were still with him, but they no longer looked like partners. They seemed diminished now, just more pawns in Sade's game. Sade stepped out of the darkness, but Dehr and Cruz remained where they stood, trying not to get involved in whatever was about to happen.

"Such insolence!" The old man spoke with the utmost contempt. "Who are you to address me as an equal? Do you know where you stand, and with whom you speak?"

"I know enough to know you're in my way." Sade continued to walk slowly towards the gate, his fiery eyes meeting the old man's shining eyes every step of the way.

"Fool! Cur!" The old man shouted, then he looked hard into Sade's eyes and a gleam of recognition showed on his withered face.

"I sense great evil inside you, mortal. It is as I have dreaded, then. You are the vessel of Moloch, come to be reborn." Now the old man's wings stretched out and sharply flapped once in warning. "I tell whatever is still human inside of you - Be gone! Be gone from this accursed place before you are consumed! Do not be fooled by the Vengeful One's lies!"

Sade simply smiled and continued his path towards the gate. The old man's wings drooped, and the great sadness that had filled the room now shown clearly on his face.

"O lost one, you are forever damned and damned! It is not my role to stop you with force, for this has been ordained since time began. But I beg of you, son of Moloch, be gone! There is still time to repent!"

"I gave up my religious ways a long time ago, old man. Now step aside, or feel the Flames of Dis upon your soul!"

Now Sade was only a few steps away from the gate. A blazing aura of red heat began swirling around him. He grabbed his black robe and flung it from him in one deft motion, revealing a gruesome sight. He was clad head to toe in blood-red armor, with a cruel demon's face protruding from the abdomen. As he spoke, his voice changed to the deeper bass of some huge beast, and it was not Sade who finished his threat to the old man, but the horrid face on his stomach. This was the face of Moloch, the Vengeful Master.

"Stop, Sade!"

Sade stopped and turned to face the voice that dared command him. It was Dune.

As Dune watched Sade approach the old man, the crystal began to respond viciously. The closer Sade got to the gate, the colder Dune felt, and the harder it was for him to remain where he was. Now, as Sade revealed himself, Dune could feel his consciousness ebbing away, and the cold intelligence of Doom taking over.

_Let me out, Vessel! Now is the time for my rebirth! If you want to save your precious wife, you will let me out. NOW! The Winds of Cocytus howl for your enemy's flesh, Dune Karn. Set me free, it is the only way now._

"No!" Dune shouted out loud. He would not let this perversion control him. _He_ would control _it_. He must not give in to Doom, ever.

The old man's bright eyes were now on Dune, and the look of unspeakable sadness was greater than ever.

"Ah, another lost soul. My son, it is not too late for you. Give me the gravity crystal. Break free of Chemosh's will, and you may yet avert calamity. Give the crystal to me now so that I may cast into the deepest depths of this world!"

These words were the worst thing the mysterious old man could have said at that moment. Before Dune could even think, the old feelings of intense pride and ownership rose up and drowned him in a single chilling wave.

"_No! It is mine, now and forever!"_

Bismark, Alex, and Indie gaped at the voice that had come out of Dune's mouth. It was cold as death, and filled with a hate so deep they couldn't believe any human could utter it. It was no longer Dune's voice at all, but the voice of Chemosh, the Doomed.

"Aah, aah..." The old man wailed now, realizing too late his mistake. "We are all fools, puppets to be led by the gods at their whim. I have lived too long here, in seclusion, and have forgotten what it means to be human and weak. Forgive me, Altimus!"

The old man bowed his head and stretched his wings out once more, then covered himself with them in an act of supplication. He had failed.

While the two forces of Moloch and Chemosh forced themselves closer and closer to the forbidding gate, a third force waited quietly in the darkness behind them. It was Levi, and his malevolent eye was staring with glee at the events that were unfolding. He saw the crimson wave of fire surrounding Sade, and the heartless blue aura grow around Dune, and decided it was his turn to play. Levi stepped forward into the light and laughed.

"Hah! I suppose I am late! But I guess you could say I was saving the best for last, eh old man?"

Levi stepped towards the old man from his hiding place and focused his new black orb squarely on the being, still bent over in a position of penance. A bolt of lightning rippled out from the eye and connected with the defenseless old man.

He tumbled over in shock, but quickly returned to his standing position, seemingly unhurt. Now he rose up to his full height, at least eight feet, and stretched his wings to their full breadth. Beneath his blue robes he now revealed four hands, then four arms, all outstretched in a great cross. He looked uncannily like the apocalyptic deity on the gate behind him, and for a moment everything in the hall stopped before his unfurled might.

"You! Demon of Astarte! You dare strike at Genju, the Eldest? Your lust for power has truly driven you insane to dare such blasphemy! I say to you only once, mortal, repent! Repent of your evil ways, and you may yet be spared the great tragedy you about to commit upon yourself and upon the world!"

"I only bow to one Goddess, old man," Levi growled. "You and your master have no power over me! I say to _you_, be gone!"

Just as with Sade and Dune before him, Levi's voice changed as he spoke. The electric aura that had been contained within his eye now began to crackle around him, and the mellifluous voice of a young woman came startlingly from the cracked and ugly lips of Jonah Levi.

Levi defiantly stepped forward until he, Sade and Dune were each on different sides of the old man, only a few footsteps from the gate.

"Fools, all fools!" Genju said sadly. He looked one last time at the three Vessels surrounding him, and then shrunk back into the diminished old man he had appeared at first, his arms hidden, wings closed behind him. He could not hope to overpower all three, not as they were now. Even if he could, it was not through violence that he was meant to protect the gate.

"Very well, as the Prophecy has foretold, ye shall be as gods. I have served my purpose here as best I could, my Lord, but it was to no avail."

Genju stood as still as a statue for a moment and looked up above, hoping for one last sign that all was not lost. But no sign came, and he wept for the world. Truly, there was nothing he could do. Even from the beginning his Master must have known it would happen this way, and yet he was still tasked to watch over this place, as one last bastion of hope against the three-pronged tide of evil that was rising to engulf this world. One last chance for the damned ones to turn back, one last chance to stay the hand of judgment. But it was not to be.

With a heavy heart, Genju spread his wings once more, and with a powerful thrust downward, he ascended. He flew high above the heads of the three Vessels, and softly glided several meters away from the gate. There was nothing standing between the three and their destiny now.

Sade, Levi, and Dune approached the great gate of the gods as one, their Masters now in almost total control of their actions. In some small corner of Dune's mind he could see everything he was doing, but he was now powerless to stop himself. His own pride had consumed him, and now he knew he must pay.

Wrath. Lust. Pride. The three forces of evil in the world stood before the gate of judgment and called out in fury, in desire, in defiance. The gate responded with a shudder that shook the entire mountain, perhaps the entire world. With a single shining blast of divine light the gate opened wide, and soon, very soon, the world would be changed forever.

The three stepped through the gate, and vanished from the world of men.


	59. Confluence, 'The Eldest'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.8 - The Eldest**

"Dune! Come back! DUNE!"

By the time Bismark had found his voice the gate was shut fast once more, and Dune, Sade and Levi were gone in a flash of blinding light. Memories of the Mordic and of Silas came rushing back to the old captain, and he felt now, more than ever, that history was repeating itself. If he had known that Silas had faced an almost identical predicament at the foot of another gate thirty years ago, it would have comforted him little.

Soon his grief gave way to anger, and he whirled around on his wooden leg to look at the rest of the people gathered in the twilit cavern. Dehr, Cruz, Indie, Alex...and one more stranger who had appeared unnoticed behind Levi. They all were still struck dumb by the sudden events and loss of their leaders. He lost Silas thirty years ago, and he almost lost Dune in the Mordic, but he would be damned if he was going to sit here gaping like a newborn babe and let the closest thing to a son he had ever known just walk out of his life. He turned a fierce eye on the old being who called himself Genju, now sitting quietly in a heap nearby, motionless.

"You! What the hell is going on here? Stop sitting there like a useless fool and do something!"

The old man looked up slowly at Bismark, his eyes shining with an inner white light, and for a moment the captain was taken aback by the look of grief in his eyes. The man seemed as torn over the recent events as himself. But what had he lost?

"I have done all that was required of me, and I shall do no more upon this earth." The old man returned his gaze to the ground, apparently in an act of penitence.

"Snap out of it!" Bismark roared at him. The force of Bismark's anger made the others flinch, bringing them back to their senses a little. Even the old man slightly raised his head, but only to shake it in futility. The shining light around him was gradually dimming, and soon he would be as dark as any other mortal.

Bismark had had enough of this man's attitude, though. With three great strides he walked right up to the being and grabbed him by his lustrous robes. Before the old man could say anything against this blasphemy, Bismark had lifted him straight off the ground and stood him on his feet.

"Get up! You let them go in there, and you're going to let us go in after them, do you hear?" Bismark said angrily, but not as loudly as before. His face was right in the other man's, and he could see the look of abject misery in it. He had to get this man past his grief, or they would have no chance of making sense of what had happened, and how they should continue.

At being handled so offensively, the old man bristled with bruised pride. His wings rustled and feathers fell softly around him as he rose higher than Bismark could reach. He straightened himself out almost to his former glory and looked down at the pitiful sight of the one-eyed, one-legged old man beneath him.

"Who are you to lay a hand on a servant of the Holy Master, mortal? I am older than you can imagine, and to touch the sacred raiment of Genju is to invite death! Be gone!"

"Oh, so now you show some backbone?" Bismark retorted fearlessly. "Where was your anger when my friend waltzed right past you and into...that?" He waved his hand at whatever lay beyond the giant gate.

"You understand nothing." Genju said quietly, but with force, like a teacher chastising a child. "Violence only begets violence. If I had tried to stop them with force, they would have been truly lost to the fallen Masters and you would not be standing here so brazenly. Their holy war would have razed this cavern, this mountain, this very world, to the ground. The only thing that saved you was their own humanity holding back the last of the fallen Masters' wills. Now that they are beyond the world of mortals, there is nothing stopping their transformation." The old man again slumped down into his former position, then finished, "It will be some time before they re-emerge from the Nexus. All we can do until then is wait. Wait for our inevitable destruction."

Bismark was not impressed by the old man's speech. "Well I am not going to give up so easily! What is it exactly that we are waiting for? If we've got nothing to do but sit here, then I don't see why you can't start explaining what's going on. God knows we've all been in the dark long enough."

Before Genju could answer, Bismark wheeled around and faced Dehr and Cruz, huddled against a corner of the cavern. "And what about you two? What do you have to say for yourselves? Have you got what it was you were looking for this time?"

Dehr said nothing and continued to stare half-dazedly at nothing, but Cruz straightened and faced Bismark, his ego not allowing him to ignore the man's accusations.

"Do you think we wanted this?" Cruz burst out with anger, but also with real fear. "We're stuck here just like you. We don't have any more idea of what's going to happen than anyone. That damnable Sade dragged us here with his lies, just like he dragged all of you here. Do you really think we have Karn's wife? Really? We aren't petty criminals, we're businessmen, politicians, human beings! We have no idea where his wife is, and if Dune think's he is saving his wife by following Sade then he's as big a fool as the rest of us. Sade lied to you the way he lied to us, the bastard!"

Cruz's outburst was unexpected, and it woke everyone out of their stupor with its harsh truths. They had all been played by the man, and now where were they? Exactly where Sade wanted them, apparently. But why?

Dehr looked at Cruz in surprise, seeing their position clearly for the first time. Alex and Indie looked at each other and at Bismark, wondering if Cruz was right. Why were they here? After his outburst, Cruz checked himself and sat down on the cold ground petulantly. Dehr quietly followed his lead and sat down, to wait for whatever it was she had let herself be brought here to find.

The stranger that had entered the cavern quietly behind Levi said nothing, but merely hovered in the background, waiting. He knew more than anyone about the terrible powers at work here, and it was that very terror that kept him silent, like a ghost.

Genju raised himself up and spoke now, with sorrow in every word. He saw these pitiful people for what they were now. Pawns, just as he was.

"Ah, my brothers and sisters, we are all naught but vessels for the gods to drink from as they please. Even I, two thousand years removed from humanity, am not immune to our shared plight in this world." Genju raised two of his hands outwards, as if to embrace everyone before him. "Come, let me ease your troubled minds as best I can in this trying time. Perhaps we can soothe each other, and find some peace before the end. What is it you wish to know?"

The dim cavern was silent for a moment, while everyone thought about his words. Alex was the first to speak, his scientific mind carefully considering what to ask this being of dying light. First, he must know who exactly it was that would be answering their questions.

"Who are you? You look like a holy priest of the Order of the Pearl, and talk like a member of the Order. But you're obviously not human."

Genju's face twitched at this question. It could have been a smile, but his endless white beard covered most of his facial expressions.

"I am Genju, the Eldest," he said simply, restating his former assertion. "I was once human, long ago. I was a great teacher of men and seeker of truth in my time. I look and talk like one of your Order's priests, because I _am_ the Order. I am the founder of the Order of the Pearl."

"What?" Alex interrupted, in shock. "The Order of the Pearl is thousands of years old, and it certainly wasn't founded here. According to all historical records, it was formed on Phoenix Isle. Even the Order itself concedes this."

Genju's beard twitched again in amusement. Talking with people once again after being confined for so long was a wonderful feeling, and it almost made him forget the tragic fate ahead.

"History has a way of being twisted, forgotten, and re-invented. The river of time has many bends, my young seeker of truth. You splash for answers on the surface, but I have traveled the river's deepest currents, and know more than your books could ever tell." Genju paused as he stood up and began to pace. His wings twitched with interest at having someone to converse with, and the dim light that had been fading around him began to shine once more. Once again he was the teacher, and here were his newest batch of students.

"What you call the Order of the Pearl is simply the current incarnation of our religion. Before Phoenix Isle was Crescent Isle, and before that...well, before that man was but an animal squirming in the darkness, untouched by the benevolent light of the Holy Master."

Now Indie spoke up for the first time, his interest piqued. "Are you saying this place is the birth of civilization? Are your people the original inhabitants of this island?"

"We are," Genju replied, pleased at his pupil's interest. "We called ourselves the People of the Moon, and I was their leader, three thousand years ago."

"Three thousand years? You're telling us you're three thousand years old? Granted, you look even older than me, but not that old!" Bismark scoffed, but not unbelievingly. Now was not the time for a lack of faith.

"Mortal years mean nothing to me anymore, for I count time on a different scale now. But even by my own standards, I am indeed ancient. However, if things were different I may still live for a thousand years to come." At this statement Genju's face once more showed the deep sorrow he felt and he stopped pacing. _If things were different._

"No human could live that long, so spit it out. What are you?" Bismark asked forcefully. He had a hidden suspicion that this being was like Sade, or Levi. Somehow warped by the crystals to something not completely human anymore.

"I see your fears plainly on your face. Do not worry yourself." Genju started pacing again, the teacher returning to form.

"I am similar to the Vessels, but my source is completely different. I was once a human, but because of my accomplishments in life, and devotion to the Balance, I was chosen for a great honor. I was visited by the Holy Master Altimus himself as my natural death approached, and given the choice to transcend my mortal body. I walk this path voluntarily, and was given my power by the divine benevolence of Altimus, not the evil will of the fallen Masters.

"When I was human, I was known by the name of Solomon, and I led my people with fairness and righteousness for many years. We lived in peace with the planet, and followed what was then only called the Balance. There was no religion, no Order of the Pearl then. The way of Balance was all we knew, and it was enough for our simple way of life. But Altimus in his infinite wisdom foresaw the time when our ever-growing people would need Order as well as Balance, and he came to the wisest of our people with a great purpose. I was deemed that person, unworthy as I turned out to be.

"He entrusted me with the task of keeping order in the world throughout the ages. I was given great power and longevity, and transformed into what you see before you. I am what is known as the Dreaming Awake, or as we came to be called, an Esper, a mortal being infused with the power of the world of the gods - what you would whimsically call 'Magic' in these times of machines and science."

Bismark, Indie, and Alex gasped. They had talked amongst themselves about "magic" after the things they had seen defied scientific explanation, but it was only their pet theory, their placeholder while they worked out the mysteries of the world. To see its power in the flesh right in front of them was a completely unexpected surprise.

"So, this is real magic?" Indie whispered. "We have come a long way from home, indeed."

"Yes, I am a being of magic," Genju continued. "I am the original Esper, the first of my kind, but not the last. I lived among men for a thousand years after my transformation, and took the name Genju, the Eldest. I continued to lead my people, now with the knowledge of the Holy Master to guide me. Along with my power, I was given five sacred relics to guard with my life. Three of them you are familiar with, no doubt."

"The crystals..." Bismark said quietly.

"Yes, the gravity crystals were once my burden to bear, and with the holy power of Altimus, I withstood their warring influence for a time. I was also given the Pearl of Order, a physical manifestation of the state of Balance in our world. The other relic was the Nacre, an artifact that brings the light of hope into even the darkest times. Both the Nacre and the Pearl were taken from me, and I know not of their current fates, except that they still exist."

"We have seen your Pearl," Alex said. "It is still safe as far as we know, even though the Order has been corrupted by Sade's influence."

Genju breathed an audible sigh of relief. "It is good that even in these dark times some things still remain sacred. If the Pearl were ever to be destroyed, the world would be plunged into the darkness of chaos. I fear that fate may be upon us soon regardless, though. During that time, the Pearl will turn from white to black, then crumble, and the Balance will be lost. For now, though, I feel the light of the Pearl shining still, however feebly. This gives me hope for the future, but once the Ultima Gate opens again and the Vessels return, nothing can stop their power from destroying this world."

"Nonsense!" Bismark said hotly. "Whatever happens, we'll stop them. We came here to stop Sade's plans, even if it costs our lives. With all your power, you should be fighting alongside us, not giving sermons about peace and cowardice! Stand up and fight, man!"

Genju only shook his head again. "I understand your devotion to your cause, but my way is no longer of war and violence. That very passion is why I was exiled to this place, and why the holy relics were taken from me. I created the Order of the Pearl and moved my people to the center of Balance in this world, Phoenix Isle. Although it was not known by that name until the second Esper, Phoenix, was created to maintain and transform the island to fulfill the needs and wants of our people. For a millennia I kept the Balance and the Order prospered, and Phoenix Isle became the center of civilization in the world. The great and powerful Phoenician Empire was born.

"Many great things were accomplished during my thousand year reign, but I was not content. I wanted to spread the word of my people to every corner of the world. I felt it was my duty to teach the way of the Order to all peoples, and I used my powers to force many to submit to my will and the will of the Holy Master. I had thought those wills were one and the same, but I was but a child even then, and my Master showed me the terrible price for assuming to know the mind of a god.

"Because I chose pride, violence and subjugation over humility, peace and tolerance, I fell from the grace of my Master's watchful eye, and the three fallen Masters of Fire, Ice, and Lightning, known by our people as Moloch, the Vengeful Poltergeist, Chemosh, the Doomed One, and Astarte, the Goddess of Desire, came to me as they came to your friends."

"Levi is no friend of mine," Bismark muttered. Genju paid him no mind, and continued with his sad tale.

"As soon as my soul was found tainted by the fallen Masters, I was stripped of my position by my true Master, and the holy relics were taken from me and scattered. I was exiled to this place, and the three crystals were hidden from all mortal eyes for fear of their irresistible influence. Without my guidance, my Empire collapsed against its own bloated weight, and Phoenix Isle was punished for my sins with destruction."

"We know this part of the story." Indie said sadly. "But, the island was not completely destroyed. It was reborn every hundred years, and humanity was given another chance to atone for their crimes. As long as our best representative was still found worthy of your Master's protection, the world remained safe from his counterpart, the Dark Master, at least for another hundred years until we were tested again. Am I right?"

Genju was surprised to hear these words from a man he thought was just a scientist, a worshipper of machines. He lifted his thick eyebrows enough that his bright eyes could be seen looking fixedly at Indie. "Indeed, you are correct in your assumptions. How is it you know so much of the secret penance my Order is forced to pay for my sins?"

"Because we were there for the last ceremony," Indie said, recalling the great events of thirty years ago. "Our friend gave his life so that the poison mist that covers your homeland would not spread beyond the island. I fear your Order's choice must not have been found worthy enough, and his sacrifice was in vain."

Genju digested this unexpected information for a moment and remained silent. Alex took this opportunity to ask the Esper a question that had been bothering him since the mention of the holy relics and Phoenix Isle.

"Genju, sir, will Phoenix Isle ever rise again, now that altar has been destroyed and the Order corrupted?"

"My brethren still watches over the island even now, deep inside its fiery core. As long as the Esper Phoenix lives, the island will rise again, and all will be reborn from the ashes. Even if the altar was destroyed last time, the island will still rise in seventy years just as it was before, to wait for the next sacrifice."

"But who will complete the ritual?" Alex asked. "Sade doesn't look like he cares one bit about saving the world, and I doubt there are any followers of _his_ that would be deemed worthy to continue the tradition."

Genju thought about this carefully, then replied, "You said that it was one of your friends that completed the ritual last time. If there are men among you who are still righteous enough to continue the tradition when the time comes, I feel they will be led to the island, even without the Order. I fear we will not need to worry about that time, though. The world will not be around for the next time of judgment if the fallen Masters have their way."

"Enough of that talk!" Bismark snapped. "Just what is these fallen Masters' plan, anyways? You talk like there's nothing that can be done to stop them now, but I don't believe it. Dune is still Dune, no matter what some evil spirit says, and I have faith in him. He won't let this happen without a fight, do you hear?"

"Such conviction!" Genju said, smiling despite himself. "I know first hand the power of the fallen Masters, and it is not something that can be kept at bay forever. Your friend was strong of spirit, that much I could tell when he stood before me. He fought his demon much more fiercely than the others, but in the end Chemosh won. Now he is lost beyond the gate, where the power of the gods is much stronger."

"What is behind that gate?" Alex asked nervously. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know this much of the truth, but his curiousity was insatiable.

Genju saw his fear and understood it all too well. He had gone beyond that gate once before.

"This gate is known as the Ultima Gate, the final door between the mortal world and the world of the gods. Beyond is the Nexus, a formless place of dreams and desires that acts as the bridge between worlds. It is only through the half-world of mortal dreams that one may enter the world of the gods. That is why we Espers are known as the Dreaming Awake. We all have passed beyond this world and into the Nexus, where our dreams and desires become real, and our mortal flesh is transformed to reflect our deepest desires, and fears. Once a mortal has been touched by the powers of the Nexus, they can never return to their original state. They will forever be halflings, borne of mortal flesh, but infused with the eternal magical energy swirling through the Nexus."

"So what will happen to Dune?" Indie said with concern. Just who would step out of that door?

"Your friend is no different," Genju said without pity. "In fact, his transformation began long before he stepped through that gate. The moment he bound himself to the gravity crystal, the dreams of Chemosh began to shape his mortal form through the crystal. In time, he would come to look more and more like an Esper. Look at the Vessel of Moloch, the one you call Sade. That was no armor he wore, but the crystal itself. He has carried the burden of its power for a long time indeed for its power to consume him so!"

"So what are these crystals, then?" Alex asked. "If they're so dangerous, why did you not destroy them? Why do they exist at all?"

Genju sighed. These were deep questions they were asking. Normally mortals had no right to such forbidden knowledge, but soon it would not matter, and Genju relented, answering whatever they asked of him.

"The gravity crystals were born from the Crystal Forge that swirls at the heart of the Nexus, each one fashioned by the gods themselves. They are the physical embodiment of the Nexus, a mortal cage to bind the immortal powers of the fallen Masters. Within each crystal is a smaller representation of the Nexus itself, each one a separate world unto itself, with no way out or in. Inside these prison worlds the fallen Masters were banished, and inside they were meant to stay for all time. But something changed at some point. The fallen Masters found a way to communicate with the mortal world through the dreams of men. Perhaps the ever darkening desires of mankind as it grew called out to them, and soon they heard, and responded in kind.

"The crystals cannot be destroyed through the hands of man, and certainly cannot be destroyed from within by the fallen Masters. This is why they needed to find Vessels who's dreams and desires strongly aligned with their own, and bind themselves to those unfortunate souls. Once in control, they could guide the Vessels and their crystal prisons to the one place in the mortal world where they could free themselves."

"Here." Bismark said, disgusted with his complicity in these twisted plans.

Genju sighed again, and lowered his head. He knew Bismark's feelings quite well.

"Yes, here, at the Ultima Gate. This gate was the bridge the gods created to allow their power to flow into the unformed space of the void and create this world. It is their power that formed this world as we see it and all life on it, and it is their combined power that maintains the Balance required to keep reality as we know it from vanishing back into the dreams of the gods. Even the fallen Masters were once a part of this great flow of elemental power, until they were banished from the world of the gods. Once they return to the Nexus and the Crystal Forge, their dreams will be made real, and their cages will be broken."

"But if they were sealed away, how is the world still here? How has balance been maintained all this time without them?" Alex's questions were some of the deepest questions ever asked by mortal man, and Genju was almost visibly afraid to answer them.

"These questions are forbidden even for me to ask, young one," Genju said quietly, as if he may be struck down for even thinking about them. "I know not the minds of the gods, or their problems. The exiling of the Masters of Fire, Ice and Lightning was long before my time, long before time as reckoned by any living being. Why they were banished, or how the world still exists without them is not for lowly beings such as us to concern ourselves with. Please, do not dwell on such things, it only leads to madness."

"Then what about here and now?" Bismark said impatiently. "I don't care one bit about the problems of these gods. I care about my friend who's trapped in there, and I want to know everything that I can do to help him."

"We can do nothing, as I have tried to tell you." Genju said, weary of Bismark's hopeless struggle. "The gates can not be opened by beings such as you or I. It is only to the voice of the gods that they will listen. Inside the world of the Nexus, the Vessels will be subjected to the full might of the fallen Masters. Unless your Dune can find a way to keep his sanity before the naked power of the gods themselves, he will lose himself and be transformed completely into an Esper, to do the bidding of his freed Master here in the mortal world."

"Dune will be fine, I believe in him." Bismark said simply and surely. "That fool is as stubborn as anyone, and I doubt he'll even believe those Masters exist, as logical as he tries to be. And as for Sade and Levi, we'll stop them if they come back out, no matter what kind of monsters they turn into."

"Fool!" Genju said with anger and impatience, rising again to his inhuman height. "You have no notion of the power of an Esper! If I chose, I could destroy all of you with one sweep of my hand! An entire army of mere humans could not stand before me in my wrath. Remember, I once ruled the entire civilized world with my power. And I was a kind and fair man, who's power was crafted by the dreams of peace of a kind and fair god. The Espers that will come out of that gate will be terrible beasts of pure destruction and malice. They will spread across this world like a wildfire, consuming everything in their mindless hunger. And we will be their first meal, I assure you!"

Genju said no more, and immediately sat himself back down in the position he had taken before Bismark had deigned to disturb him. The time for teaching was over. Now he would wait as gracefully as he could for his own death. He only hoped these foolish humans, with their futile dreams of a happy ending and the reuniting of hopelessly lost friends, would accept their own deaths as quietly he did.

Bismark did not back down from Genju's anger, though. He stood his ground and said with heartfelt emotion, "I believe in Dune. His father fought the demons and won, and so will he. You'll see, you old coward."

Alex and Indie nodded in agreement. This was the son of Silas, after all. The three old men stood together in solidarity and waited for their friend to return safe to them, as they knew he would.


	60. Confluence, 'The Other Side'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.9 - The Other Side**

_I am Dune Karn._

_I am the son of Silas Karn._

_My wife is Mae, and I will find her no matter what._

_I am a scientist, and my mind says this is not real._

This was Dune's mantra to himself as his body crossed the threshold of the Ultima Gate and entered the twilight realm known as the Nexus. His body was not his own, and most of his mind wasn't either, but his soul was still his, and he intended to fight Doom to the last thread of his existence.

_Oh, but this is very real, Vessel. I am your Doom, as I have said since the beginning. And this is where your fight ends, and mine begins. Chatter in my ear all you want, insect, but your body is mine, and it will walk itself right into the very forge of creation at my command. Prepare yourself for oblivion, mortal._

Dune did not pay any attention to Doom's voice, now coming out of his own mouth in harsh, alien tones. He chanted his identity to himself and watched, and waited.

_I am Dune Karn, son of Silas and Katherine..._

_My wife is Mae..._

After several minutes, the blinding white light that had filled Dune's vision completely began to fade, or perhaps his eyes simply got used to the unnatural brightness that filled this place. If the brightness bothered Doom's perception through Dune, it didn't show. His body mechanically and purposefully walked forwards through the glare towards...what? He still could not make out anything here. Everything was just white light.

_This is the Nexus, a place your feeble mind can only begin to comprehend. It is a place of unformed dreams and desires - where reality ends...or begins, depending on your perspective. For you, this the end. For me, it is the beginning of a glorious existence that has been denied me by my brethren for far too long._

Now Dune could see something of this Nexus, as Doom called it. The light was no longer covering everything, but still shone from everything, everywhere. This was indeed a world of light. But the light formed structures he could see, swirled in patterns his mind could understand and follow. There was order to this place of dreams, and Dune was beginning to see it as he struggled to hold onto the last of his being.

_I am Dune Karn..._

As he moved forward against his will, he realized he was alone. Not completely alone, of course. Doom was always with him, but where were Sade and Levi? As his vision became more accustomed to the light, he was able to see farther and farther out. And he was utterly alone here. For all he knew, he was the only living thing in this world.

There were no hills, no valleys, no landforms of any kind to obstruct his view here. It was all a flat, formless plain of glittering light extending infinitely away from him in all directions. He could not even see the giant gate he had walked through to get here. There was no horizon, no sky, no north or south, east or west. The plain extended so far out that it seemed to rise up and up until it became the sky. In the real world, on a real planet, the curvature of the planet would make even the flattest landscape eventually curve downwards and away. But here, everything just kept going and going, forever. The only place Dune could even remotely compare this world to was a place he had never believed real, until now. This place was like the nightmare world of ice he had found himself trapped in when he first came face to face with Doom.

_You are right, in so far as you can understand. My prison of Cocytus was modeled after the Nexus, an infinite world of pure power, still unformed by the dreams of gods and men. I filled it with my being, and through my desires it shaped itself into what you saw. Soon, the whole world will be as Cocytus, a world of eternal ice, with me as its ruler. I will be the Master of Ice once again._

_Not if I stop you. I am Dune..._

Dune's body croaked in laughter at his fading defiance, and continued forward into the light. He still saw no sign of Sade or Levi, but as he moved forward, the structures and patterns of swirling light around him grew stronger, and took on shapes he began to recognize. He saw translucent trees, houses, cars, chairs, tables...just everyday objects from the real world. But they were being formed almost as soon as Dune thought of them, as if the light was responding to his own thoughts.

And why not? Doom had said this was a world of unformed dreams and desires. Perhaps his own mind was creating order from this chaos as he traveled through it. How far could he take this power before Doom stopped him? Perhaps...

_Ha ha ha...my poor naive Vessel. Still struggling in vain even as your very essence is consumed. Conjure all you like, it will only hasten your obliteration. This is the world of dreams, and to make one's dreams real is to invite the nightmares that lurk in the hearts of all mortals. Your dreams will become real here, yes, but so will your worst fears and memories. And I will be here to feed on those fears, watching as you succumb to the stink of your own humanity. At the very moment your despair is total and your soul defeated, I will have won and you will be gone. So amuse me, Vessel. What is it that you fear?_

Dune struggled to listen to Doom's voice without being consumed by it, but it was becoming harder to focus. Harder to exist.

_I am...I am..._

_Who am I?_

"You're Dune Karn, right?"

_Yes...Dune...Karn..._

"Give me the crystal!"

_Who is that?_

"Give it to me!"

_That voice...I know that voice..._

"What are you doing? Stop it!"

_A woman's voice...and...light...blue light..._

"I'm just trying to help! AHH!"

Suddenly everything came into focus. Dune was back in his apartment, and everything was going to hell. A woman in a black robe stood inches away from him, her hand perilously close to the pocket where the crystal slept. But now it was awake, and its merciless blue light was filling the apartment, filling him.

_This is...I remember this..._

A bone-chilling scream filled his ears and broke whatever train of thought he had managed to put together. The scream continued, on and on, rising beyond Dune's ability to endure it. It was a woman's scream, a scream of pure terror and pain. It was the sound of death. It was...

"Cassandra!" Dune yelled out, this time through his own mouth. Either Doom had allowed him to speak, or his own emotions were overpowering the demon's control. The world around him was all blue now, and cold, so cold. Cassandra was standing in front of him, being assaulted by the cold energy falling off him in waves.

This was no mere nightmare. This was a real memory that was being brought to life around him. This was the memory of Cassandra that Dune had blocked from his mind for months. And as he helplessly watched the memory unfold, he knew why.

Cassandra continued to scream louder and louder as the blue waves washed over her. Blood was beginning to trickle from various spots all over her body as the cold wind bit at her flesh. At first it was only a few sensitive areas that were exposed - her cheeks, hands, her ankles. Soon the blood began to flow more freely, and her black robe was damp from the wounds that must be covering her entire body now. The cold wind was buffeting her right through her clothes, right through her skin, into the very center of her being. Before long she would be completely blown away by the ruthless blasts of cold air.

Dune tried to look away, tried to end this horrible memory, but he was powerless. This was a reality he had forced himself to forget, and now he was forcing himself to relive it. But a part of him knew he needed to see this. To see what he was capable of if he let his guard down even for a moment.

The howling of the poor girl's voice went on and on, even as the wind ripped her bleeding lips from her mouth and tore great swaths of skin from her body, exposing muscle and bone. She had no eyes to see now, and only the cruel blue light shone from her bleeding sockets. What was left of her body was covered in bright red blood, but Dune could still see its color clearly underneath the gore. Any exposed flesh was turning as blue as the horrible light around them. She was being frozen to death even as the wind tore her to pieces.

And yet she was still conscious, still screaming in agony as the wind ate her alive. Dune could feel his sanity slipping away as he was forced to watch, forced to bear witness to his greatest crime. This was too much, too much...

At last the screaming subsided into a mournful wail, then a gasp, then a guttural clicking that no longer sounded human. Cassandra's body had reached the utmost extreme that it could endure, and her body was finally giving into its fate. Dune watched as the bloody hole that had been her mouth stopped fighting to stay open, and the rest of her body went limp and flailed lifelessly with each gust of cold wind. Cassandra had finally died, in unbearable agony.

The wind kept assaulting her body even after she gave up, though, and as Dune watched in horror, what was once Cassandra DeMore gradually faded, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a skeleton, dressed in a few black scraps that were soon destroyed. For a brief moment her lifeless form stood erect, the disintegrating skull grinning with finality at its murderer, then the bones fell to the floor and were ground to dust by the relentless wind. There was no trace of Cassandra left. She was utterly consumed by Dune's power.

_Yes. By your power, Dune. You killed her, destroyed her. She was an innocent young girl, and you murdered her with your own rage. You are as cold-blooded as you claim me to be. You are just like me. We are the same. We are Chemosh, the Doomed._

_NO! I am...I am not...AGH...WHAT AM I?_

_You are me._

_NEVER! ...I...am..._

_You are nothing. I am everything. You have seen your soul laid bare, the worst of humanity inside you. You are cruel and defiant, capable of anything if it will serve your own sense of how the world should be. Stop fighting your destiny, child of the sands. Join me, and I will make us more powerful than anything that has ever existed. Join me, Vessel. NOW!_

_NO! No...no...nononononono..._

_I...am..._

_I..._

_..._

_..._


	61. Confluence, 'Trial by Fire'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.10 - Trial by Fire**

The moment Sade had been waiting for was quickly approaching. He had patiently manipulated events as best he could for thirty years to be led to this exact spot, at this exact moment. He stood alone before the Crystal Forge at the center of the Nexus, eagerly awaiting the next move his master would make with his body, which he had given freely.

And yet, he was afraid. The dark presence of his ever-wrathful master, Moloch, had filled his life since his rebirth in the Flames of Dis. Whether he was awake or asleep, his master was always with him, mercilessly pushing him forward in their shared goal of vengeance. It was a trying experience, both physically and mentally, but Sade bore it as dutifully as Jehad had once borne the burdens of honest priesthood. Now, here at the heart of all things, he would be rewarded for his undying devotion. Or so he hoped. Even he did not always know fully the mind of his master, and even now he was afraid. But that fear would be wiped away once he was reborn a second time in the fires of the Forge. Reborn as a legendary Esper.

The Crystal Forge glimmered in front of Sade with an infinitude of colors. The Nexus was a world of light, completely pure and unformed, but even light has a source. At the very heart of the Nexus, where it began its ascent into the unfathomable world of the gods, raged the Crystal Forge. It was a swirling vortex of light, twisting the very fabric of reality upwards and inwards until it twisted itself right out of mortal existence and into the higher realm of the gods. The sheer force of this ever-feeding maw was beyond measure, and to stand before it was to look into the face of eternity.

Sade now stood here, his master guiding his every step. He could hear his master's deep, rumbling voice echoing both in his mind and from the gruesome face on his armor.

_I have brought you here, and now you must fulfill one last task for me, Vessel. To taste of the Forge is to be blessed with the power of the gods truly. But one is not given such power without being tested to their utmost. I know of your fear, and this fear must be conquered, or you will be utterly destroyed by the Forge, with not even an atom of your being left to find. Open your heart and mind, and let the power of the Forge shape your deepest fears into reality, and then crush them!_

Sade did not know what his deepest fears were, but it seemed the light flowing around him did. From the whirling light before him came at first a few wisps of glowing matter, then solid objects began to form around him from the wisps. Piece by piece the ephemeral light ordered itself into recognizable shapes and patterns, and soon Sade knew where he was, and when.

As if in a dream, Sade looked down on himself as he once was, as Jehad, and then the two become one again, and Sade was once more Jehad. This was the heart of the Nacropolis, and he was about to pledge himself to the Vengeful Master at the Altar of Fire, thereby betraying everything he had ever believed in up to that point. He watched helplessly as he once again committed the gravest sin of his mortal life.

_Welcome, Jehad. You have journeyed far, and now have come to the journey's end._

This was not the voice of Moloch, but another's voice. It was sweet and full of love, not harsh and spiteful. Jehad could feel a great fire warm him from within as it spoke. It gave him courage as he stood at the brink of the magma-filled hole known as the Altar of Fire.

_You stand before the final trial of your pilgrimage, and must not fail. You are weary, but let my flames ease your heart and give you renewed life._

Jehad said nothing, but dropped to his knees as a wave of heat washed over his body. Such warmth and kindness! And yet, there was deep sorrow in the great power that swept over his soul. He knew in an instant what was being asked of him. And he was afraid.

"Must I?" Jehad cried.

_My poor son! There is no other way. Life must be renewed with life. You have been led here for this reason, for this moment. My flames are the flames of rebirth, and they are also the flames of destruction. For this world to live, you must die. I am sorry..._

Jehad had not expected this. He had assumed he would complete the ritual, and then return home to his Order victorious. A hero. Now, that was all gone. His future was obliterated in an instant. The flames continued to bathe him, but they no longer felt quite as comforting. The bitterness of a life unfairly cut short clung to them, and Jehad's heart cried out in defiance, even as his mind prepared to finish the ritual.

"I must...but, it is so hard...," Jehad wavered.

_You may yet live, if you so choose..._

Another voice echoed through the chamber. This was not the voice of love, but a voice of hate. But it promised life. Jehad listened with his heart, even though his mind knew evil when it spoke and tried to turn away.

_Hear my words, for I am the true Master of Fire. Do not listen to the lies of the Phoenix, for she is a false flame. You will give your life for nothing, and no one will remember or care about you after you are gone. Your Elder knew he was sending you to your death, and yet he willingly, gladly chose you instead of himself._

Jehad heard the new voice's words with despair. What was the truth? Surely the High Elder knew the fate of those who were sent on the pilgrimage here. Why had he been chosen among all the others? Was he simply the most expendable? Did his revered Father truly think so little of one of his sons? Jehad remained motionless for what seemed an eternity, locked in conflict with himself.

_You must find the truth for yourself, my son._

This was the first voice again, the voice of the Phoenix.

_This is the final trial, the trial of Fire. You must face your fears and the evil at the heart of all mortals. You must pass through the raging flames of your own heart and willingly give yourself to the Flames of Rebirth. Do not be tempted by the Flames of Dis, for that path leads only to the destruction of your very soul, as well as the downfall of all life. In the end, it is your choice, Jehad. We are all in your hands._

Jehad did not know what he should do. He knew the kind voice of the Phoenix must be right, but he was so afraid of death. He had not known until this moment how much he wanted to live. In his mind, he had always said he would give his life for the Order, and yet, his heart showed him the truth of his soul. Why must the gods be so cruel?

"Why?" Jehad yelled out, rising to his feet. He could feel anger welling up inside him at this fate that he was tricked into.

"I want to live!" He said defiantly, looking straight down into the mouth of fire churning at his feet. The magma quickened its violent flow, and bubbles of fire began to erupt on its surface. The room shook in response to Jehad's wavering spirit, and the single ray of light that had illuminated the room from above vanished as if a hand of stone had passed over the opening.

_Join with me, Jehad. I will fulfill all your earthly desires. You do not need to die for these people. They used you. The gods used you, just as they used me. Together, we will make things right. We will return Order ourselves! We do not need anyone, mortal or god!_

"I...aah, Altimus have mercy on me! I cannot choose to die!" Jehad wailed, his heart winning over his mind. The flames flew up in front of him, casting an infernal light on his face. It was the haggard face of a man condemned. He knew he was lost no matter what he chose, and in his soul, he knew he was damned.

He gazed into the wall of flames, and made his choice. No words needed speaking, it was with his heart he betrayed the Order in that moment, and the consequences were immediate.

_Ah, my poor son, you have been lost to your earthly desire! I weep for the future, and pray for your soul. Farewell, Jehad. May Altimus have mercy on you!_

Phoenix's sad voice faded as the flames grew higher and the room shook with more violence. And then all motion stopped, and the room grew still. The flames quietly licked at the air inches from Jehad's face.

_It is done. The Flames of Rebirth have been rejected. Now, embrace the Flames of Dis! Embrace me!_

Knowing it was far too late to turn back, Jehad said the words that he knew would ruin him.

"Come to me, my Master. Come, Moloch...," Jehad said these words quietly, a strange sense of calmness filling him as he finally made his choice, poor as it was. He stood motionless while the blaze grew and grew until it reached the ceiling, the intense heat meaning nothing to him, for he was now one with the Vengeful One.

The great doors of mythril that had sealed themselves behind him swung open as he made his decision, and two men tumbled into the room.

_You are my Vessel. _The voice of his master spoke.

"Jehad!" Another voice cried out from behind him. Jehad paid it no heed.

_Jehad is no more. _The voice said into his mind.

"Get away from there!" The other voice continued, meaninglessly. Jehad could barely hear it now.

_You are now my servant. You are hereby Sade, the Vessel of Moloch. You know what it is you must do. _The voice of his master was irresistible, and Jehad - Sade - no longer wished to resist. He succumbed to the power of the Vengeful Master.

"I know," Sade said with absolutely no emotion whatsoever, and became one with his Master.

The flames surrounded Sade, and the memory of his downfall was devoured in a blaze of red light as his body plunged deep into the magma and was reborn, remade, reforged. The heat intensified, and Sade once again lived through the agonizing transformation at the heart of the Altar of Fire. He felt his body melt away, then his mind, and for a moment, he was nothing, no one. And then he was once again before the Crystal Forge.

In that moment he felt the weight of all his fears on his soul. The fear was past enduring, and he cried out. There was no one here now, though. He was abandoned to the fate he had chosen for himself, and witnessing his own downfall a second time had pushed him over the brink. He could feel the soul of Jehad crying out in despair from deep inside him, but he could not let it win. This was the final test. He must vanquish his own humanity once and for all. Jehad must die for Sade to live.

_I am Sade!_

_No! I am Jehad, and you know I must atone for my sins! Our sins!_

_Die, you damnable dreg!_

_I must live, I must die...I must..._

_Die, damn you! Die! Die! Die!_

_No...I must...remain...I am...Jehad..._

_DIE!_

_No...I...am..._

_..._

_..._


	62. Confluence, 'Brotherhood'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.11 - Brotherhood**

Levi was impatient. He had been promised a world of riches and power beyond imagining, and here he was stuck in a world full of nothing. He let the Goddess guide his steps, but he still maintained control of his mind and senses. He was no pawn like everyone else seemed to be. He was Jonah Levi, and he was his own master, even now. He followed his Goddess because his desires were perfectly in tune with her own, and everything she wanted, he wanted as well. So why not share his body with her for now?

_We will be glorious together, my loyal one. Be patient. Soon we will own the world, and bring our rule down on the masses like a tidal wave._

"Yes, yes, I trust you. But this is _boring_!" Levi spat out into the silence swirling around him. "Where are we going, anyways?"

_To the center of the Nexus, the Crystal Forge. There and only there can the chains that bind me be broken, and only once I am free can you gain the power you crave._

Levi did not like the way the Goddess plodded along with his body. He had so much power already! She could practically fly his body to wherever this Crystal Forge was, but no...she limped his body forward as if he were still a cripple.

"Hurry up!" Levi said loudly.

_Be patient. One does not simply walk straight into the center of the universe. I am guiding your body in exactly the way it must move to reach the Forge. One false step and you would be lost in an unseen twist of space, never to be heard from again. If you like, I can give you control and we'll see how you fare..._

"No. I'll manage, thank you," Levi said angrily. "This is just so boring!"

_Soon. You have been as loyal a Vessel as I could have ever hoped to find, and very soon you will receive your reward. But you must know that there is one final obstacle that must be conquered._

"And that is...?" Levi snorted. He could overcome anything in this world or any other.

_You have great power now, but it is still only mortal power, bound by the laws of your world. To receive the power of the gods, you must give up your humanity, completely. You must fight your worst enemy - you must conquer yourself._

"I fear nothing, and have no enemy that is my equal. So what exactly must I fight, hm?"

Levi said this with his usual bravado, but his mind was open to his Master, and she knew he was not being completely honest. Swirls of light began forming around Levi as he continued forward.

_Yes, you are infinitely confident, but you are still human, and all humans have something to fear. What is it, I wonder, that the Nexus will show you? _

The swirls of light grew thicker, more organized. As the Goddess spoke, patterns emerged in the air, and transparent objects took shape. Levi kept moving forward, but something he saw in the vague shapes silenced him.

_What are you afraid of, Jonah Levi?_

"I am afraid of nothing!" Levi said weakly at last, but already he knew. He knew where his steps were taking him. But he would survive. No matter what, he was a survivor. Sweat trickled down his face as his awareness grew. Could it really be...?

_Hah, hah, hah...yes...what could the great Jonah Levi fear?_

Before Levi could answer, the swirling intensified and he suddenly found himself in another time and place. Levi's body was transformed along with the space around him. No longer was he a one-legged old man with a magic eye. No, he was young again. Very young, only a child.

And he was whole. As whole as he would ever be, since after this moment he never felt satisfied again, never quite...human. This was the moment he first killed a man. This was the moment he killed his own brother.

"Barabbas..." Levi wailed with realization, as his consciousness melded with his own former self, becoming the boy that would become the man. The monster.

Young Jonah Levi stood at the base of a steep cliff, the sun's dying rays falling on his face as he watched his brother from a distance. Barabbas Levi was six years older than Jonah, only sixteen, but he already looked like an adult, and acted like one, too. Jonah hated the way his brother strutted, always thinking he was better than everyone else. And everyone seemed to agree with him, fawning over him like a prince. Well, Jonah was sick of it, and today he would prove he was better than his brother.

"Barabbas!" Jonah shouted as he ran up to where his brother stood at the top of the cliff. Look at him, standing there looking out over the sea like he owned it!

Barabbas turned around slowly and looked at his brother calmly, not seeming to care about Jonah's presence here. Jonah knew this was his brother's private place, where he went to collect his thoughts and be alone. Normally Barabbas would be angry that Jonah was intruding, but today he only looked at his brother wearily. Did he already know what Jonah had done earlier? Could Dez have already told him?

"Barabbas," Jonah said again as he reached his brother's little sanctuary. "I wanted you to know that Dez chose me after all." He waited to see some reaction on his brother's face, but there was nothing. Just that same serene gaze that infuriated him.

"Well? Don't you care that I've stolen the woman you claim to love?" Say something, dammit!"

His brother turned away from him and went back to looking at the sun set over the ocean, setting the waves on fire. It was a beautiful sight, and even in his hatred Jonah could see why his brother came here so often. This would be a nice place to take Dez, if she ever spoke to him again.

"Your silence won't make things better, brother!" Jonah said mockingly. "She loves me now, and you're nothing to her!"

Now his brother laughed, as if this entire twisted situation were one big joke.

"Jonah," Barabbas finally said in his quiet, sure way that drove his brother mad, "If she truly loves you, then I am glad for both of you. I know you hate me, but I still love you. You are my little brother! How could I hate my own kin? Go and be happy with Desirae, if that is what you want. The gods know, little enough makes you happy in this world. I am sorry, but if you came here for a fight, you will only receive my blessing."

This was just like his brother! Turning everything into a peace offering. He loved Dez, yes, but he loved his power over her more, the power of having the admiration of a girl older than himself, and what he loved most of all was the power he thought having her would give him over his brother. But here his brother stood, practically giving her to him without a second thought. Damn you Barabbas! Why won't you give me what I want? Why won't you get angry?

"Brother." Jonah seethed. "I don't care one bit about your blessing. I came here to prove to you that I'm better than you, and that's what I am going to do. You're nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing!"

His brother's peaceful gaze turned serious as he looked at Jonah, perhaps seeing his brother as more than just "little Jonah" for the first time.

"Jonah, you have nothing to prove to me. I've done my best to convince you that life isn't a contest, but you just won't listen. It grieves me to see you so full of malice and greed. You'll never be happy as long as you feel like you have to show everyone how great you are. Do you know what I think? You're already great in my mind, and nothing you ever do will make you any more or less to me. You're my brother, and that alone is good enough for me. Why can't it be enough for you? Why can't anything ever be enough for you?"

"Damn you, Barabbas!" Jonah raged. "I will make you submit to me! I am better than you, better than anyone!"

Jonah lunged at his brother, losing his temper. Barabbas simply stood his ground, and let his little brother tackle him to the ground. He offered no resistance as Jonah beat him with his fists, tears streaming down his face.

"Listen to me! Yell at me! Fight me, you coward!" Jonah howled, sobbing as he spoke. He hated his brother, but he loved him, too. His brother's opinion was everything to him, and the more Barabbas ignored him, the more it enraged him.

The sun was now almost gone, but Jonah still struggled with his complacent brother, urging him to retaliate, to show him that he cared at all. But he did nothing. He just kept looking at Jonah with that unbearable gaze. Those eyes! I'll tear them out of your skull!

"Why won't you acknowledge me, brother!" Jonah wailed hoarsely. "You think you're so smug! You think you're always right! Say something, or I'll beat you to a pulp!"

"Jonah, I forgive you."

Nothing could have stung Jonah more than those words. He grabbed his brother by the collar of his shirt and pulled him as close to his face as he could.

"Barabbas, I hate you. I wish you would just die."

Barabbas said nothing. He just kept looking at Jonah with those eyes. Those damn eyes! How dare you pity me! I'm the one in control here!

"Stop it! Stop looking at me like that! I'll kill you!"

Jonah got up off his brother, and dragged him to his feet. Barabbas came willingly, letting his brother do whatever he wanted. This only infuriated him more.

"You're going to fight me, or you're going to die," Jonah said, almost peacefully. But he felt anything but peaceful as he forced his brother to stand.

He shoved his brother backwards, towards the edge of the cliff. Barabbas made no effort to stop him.

"Fight me!" Jonah yelled.

Barabbas remained motionless, looking at his brother serenely. There were tears in his eyes now.

"Fight me, brother!" Jonah repeated, louder than before. He was still crying.

He shoved his brother again, harder. Barabbas teetered at the edge of the cliff, but made no effort to fight back or regain his ground.

Jonah howled in rage and despair, his emotions pushing him further and further out of control. He lurched backwards for one final push, wanting desperately for his brother to do something to save himself, and hating him all the more.

"BARABBAS!" He screamed, his voice cracking. His body moved forward with all the strength he could muster.

"Damn you, brother, love me!" he whispered without thinking, his voice gone and his tears choking him. His hands connected, and he did not pull back.

Barabbas staggered backwards and stumbled, losing his balance. Realizing what he was about to do, Jonah tried to grab him as he fell away, but he couldn't hold on. He wasn't strong enough to hold his much larger brother up. Despite his boasting, he had no power at all to stop his brother.

Barabbas never blinked. He just kept looking at his brother as he fell. His eyes were full of tears, but there was no fear, no anger, no hate. Only peace, and sorrow.

"But I've always loved you," he said quietly as he fell away from Jonah.

The scene seemed to play in slow motion, his brother gradually descending away from Jonah as he reached out to save him. His brother's final words hung in the air even after he disappeared into the darkness below.

What had he done? Could he really have killed his brother? As if in answer, a voice rang out from behind him.

"What have you done, Jonah?" the voice said shrilly. It was Dez. She had seen the whole thing.

"I...he..." Jonah stammered uselessly. It was too late. His life was over now.

"What have you done..." Dez said again, weakly. "Jonah, how could you?"

She fell to her knees and started crying, and Jonah felt a sudden urge to reach out for her, to grab her...to strangle her. What was this horrible feeling? He suddenly felt hollow, like he had just puked up his entire soul.

Apparently Dez saw something of Jonah's madness in his eyes, for she immediately got to her feet and backed away.

"Stay away from me..." she said slowly. "You're a monster Jonah Levi. I never want to see you again."

Jonah tried to reach towards her, but she shied away violently.

"Stay away! I'm going back to the estate and telling your parents! They know where I went, and they'll be here if you do anything to me!"

This was it. He knew he had to kill her too. But this was Dez! How could he kill the woman he loved?

The same way he killed his brother, that's how.

"No!" Jonah shouted, struggling to stay sane against the dark thoughts that were flowing freely through his mind.

He staggered towards Dez in supplication, ready to convince her it was an accident. But she took his movement as a threat, and screamed. Without thinking he lunged at her, the scream terrifying him into action. She dodged him and then kicked him savagely in the ribs as he fell. Before he could recover she had fled back down the cliff and out of his reach. That was the end. There was no going back now.

Jonah screamed like a wounded animal, raising his fists at the now dark sky. The sun had set, and Jonah was alone in the darkness. He knew he would never see the light again, and he wept and wailed like the child of ten that he was.

But he was no longer a child after that night. He never returned home to face his crimes, but escaped under the cover of night by ship to a faraway land. There was no light left in Jonah Levi's soul after that night, and he suppressed the accusing demons in his heart as best he could as he wandered in exile from his home. He had done a remarkable job hiding his dark past from himself over the years, but here it was facing him once more. The floodgates had been forced open, and the demons were free to torment him once again.

"Brother..." Levi stammered, old and crippled once more. He stood in front of the Crystal Forge, his soul naked before the power of the gods.

"Brother...I..."

_I forgive you, brother..._

"No! I hate you!"

_I still forgive you._

"Damn you Barabbas, I killed you once, and I'll kill you again, once and for all!"

_Jonah, my brother..._

"Die, brother!"

_Brother..._

"DIE!"

...

...


	63. Confluence, 'The Birth of Magic'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Confluence**

* * *

**Part 7.12 - The Birth of Magic**

The ghostly lights danced in the great stone hall where Bismark, the Esper Genju, and the others waited. There was no wind here to move them, but of course these lights had no earthly origin, so they did not care whether there was wind or not. But they surely felt something in the still air, because they wavered violently, as if a great power were trying to snuff them out.

Genju glanced at the nearest lights from where he sat on the cold ground, and whispered something unintelligible. They instantly calmed and brightened. Bismark was visibly surprised, and a few gasps came from some of the others. Apparently, Genju was the source of these flames.

"It is almost time," Genju said, gathering himself up from the ground. "The three Vessels are approaching the Ultima Gate, and we shall see if your friend was able to withstand Chemosh or not." Genju sighed, as if the answer was already a foregone conclusion.

Bismark growled at the old man's lack of faith. "Dune will be fine, I can promise you that. And if he isn't, well then I'll just have to smack some sense into him with this wooden leg of mine! Gahahah!"

Bismark laughed, but inside he was as anxious as the others. He knew Dune could take as much as anyone, and if he was anything like his father, he could take more than Bismark himself. But this was something entirely different, and despite his outward confidence, he had no idea if it was possible for a mere mortal to stand against a god. If that's what these "fallen masters" really were. Bismark had his doubts that anything so malicious could truly be a god.

Genju stood up and slowly unfurled his wings, ignoring Bismark's comment. He had originally sat with his back to the gate, but now he turned straight around and looked straight up into the giant face of Altimus carved across the gate. As he gazed at the doors, he grew in size to his full height, but was still only a fraction of the size of the figure of Altimus on the doors. Without turning around, he spoke in a voice that filled the entire room.

"Stand back, all of you. They come."

Bismark, Alex and Indie instantly tensed, ready to fight whatever came from behind the gate tooth and nail. Dehr and Cruz simply moved as far back and away from the gate as they could, hoping not to be noticed when the fighting started, for there would surely be a fight here when Sade returned, one way or another. The final ghostly figure, who had once been Agent Phantom, remained standing in his rags where he had been the entire time, saying nothing, doing nothing.

The cavern was absolutely silent for a minute that dragged for an eternity, then a deafening crack like a clap of thunder resounded through the air and a thin ray of pure white light escaped from between the great gates like a laser, heralding the return of the Vessels. The mountain shook and groaned as the Ultima Gate slowly opened, filling the room with fierce holy light. A great wind poured out with the light, blowing Genju's magic lights out as if they were ordinary candles.

Genju stood firm before the opened gates, the blinding light surrounding him until he was no more than a dim shadow to the others behind him. Bismark couldn't help but shield his eye from the light, so he couldn't see who or what was coming from the strange world beyond the gate. If it were an enemy, he would be completely helpless, and suddenly he felt very old, very foolish, and very afraid. Would he be blasted into bits without ever even seeing his opponent?

Genju must have been able to still see, for he flew up on his great wings and rushed backwards from the gate. He landed right in front of Bismark, Alex and Indie, and positioned himself like a shield, his back to the three men.

"What are you doing?" Bismark yelled over the howling wind coming from the gate.

"I may be a coward, as you say, but I am still the guardian of this place, and of mankind." Genju said over his shoulder, a faint smile spreading from beneath his beard. "It may not do any good, but I will try to protect you from the forces that are coming as best I can. Do not move."

A new sound was coming from the gates now. It sounded like the roar of many great beasts all at once, and the men knew something fearsome was finally approaching. Would it be Dune, Sade, or Levi?

The roar grew and transformed, changing pitch and frequency like some otherworldly instrument gone mad. Gradually it settled into a single identifiable sound as it grew closer and louder. There was no mistaking that roar now - it was laughter. The laughter of some ungodly beast. Even in its grotesquely amplified state, it was instantly recognizable.

Jonah Levi.

The being that rushed outwards from the gate like a runaway train was no longer Levi, however. Faster than Bismark could register, an immensely long figure slithered out from the gate and coiled around the hall's great heights, floating above them as easily as a fish swims through water. It was no fish, but a giant serpent, capable of circling the entire cavern with its blue, scale-covered body. The only comparison Bismark could make was to the great Queen of the Sea, Latimeria. But that fearsome beast was dead, killed in their struggle in the Mordic.

No, if Latimeria was the Queen of the Sea, then this Levi-thing must be the King of the Sea. It had a great flowing mane of grey that looked like an exaggerated version of Levi's scraggly black beard and hair, and several yellow tendrils protruding from its face around the grey hair of the mane. A single narrow row of translucent, spiny fins lined its back all the way from head to the tail, where more grey hair grew, like the tail of a lion. Instead of flippers or limbs, it had two great wing-like fins where its arms might have been, but only one wing-fin on the right where its legs should have been. Apparently, even as an Esper Levi retained his missing limb.

And like Levi's former self, this creature was also missing its left eye, and instead had a massive black orb shining from the socket. If this was the same orb as before, it had grown in size to match the mighty form of its owner and was now the height of an entire person. Deep neon streaks of electricity danced across the eye, sending out sparks every once and a while to land on the floor below like bolts of lightning.

The most frightening part of Levi's new body was the demonically grinning mouth, though. Great glistening shark's teeth filled the gaping maw like a thousand daggers, and his scarlet tongue flicked the air like a snake's. All the time he was grinning with unsuppressed glee, and laughing in the inhuman roar that had trumpeted his arrival.

No one in the hall could move, so petrified were they by Levi's monstrous presence above them. Genju stretched his wings out to the fullest, covering Bismark, Alex, and Indie in a dome of white feathers. The others simply cowered where they stood, exposed to Levi's fury.

Levi circled the great hall several times in rapid succession, feeling out his wondrous new body. Slowly, he wound himself down and then halted all movement and noise, hovering above the others with silent malevolence, the white light of the open gates casting his enormous shadow across the cavern. The shark's grin on his distinctively serpent-like face snapped shut with an audible clack of teeth as he cut off his laughter. Then he spoke.

"Greetings from the Goddess, my friends!" Levi's voice echoed out merrily from the monster's lipless jaws, now far deeper and uglier than his human voice. It had a strange muddiness to it, like his voice was rising through the depths of the ocean to reach them. But that same mania shone clearly through the beastly voice, letting anyone who had ever heard Levi's voice know it was still the same madman who spoke.

"I have returned from hell," Levi continued, "And Jonah Levi is no more. There is only the Lord of the Seas, Leviathan!"

As if to prove his claim of Lord of the Seas, Levi, now Leviathan, flicked his lion's tail savagely upwards, straight through the ceiling of the cavern. A great gout of water rained down from one of the hidden rivers above, narrowly missing the humans huddled below. The column of water twisted and turned as if alive, then turned towards the exit and snaked upwards and back up the path to the outside, like a horizontal water spout.

Leviathan laughed at his feat, reveling in his new power. "Yes, this will do nicely. I think it's time to claim my throne in the name of the Goddess Astarte." Leviathan rolled his great yellow fish-eye, the real one, downwards and fixed it straight at Bismark. "My dear Mobius, I hope you can still swim with that one leg of yours. This cavern will soon fill up like a fishbowl, and you, my little goldfish, will meet the watery end you should have gotten thirty years ago."

Bismark, frightened as he was at the overwhelming presence of Leviathan, was still enraged enough to respond to his threats.

"You're still a bastard, Levi. We'll survive, and when Dune comes out of that gate, he'll make sure you're sent back to the bottom of the ocean where _you_ should have stayed!"

Leviathan only grinned at Bismark's empty words. "Be careful what you wish for, Mobius. You just might get it." He roared with renewed laughter, shaking the walls of the mountain hall, now slowly filling with water from above. "Catch me if you can!"

With a sound like a whip cracking, Leviathan's long body straightened and he shot towards the exit like an arrow. In his path stood his companion-slave, Phantom. The half-dead man made no attempt to get out of Leviathan's way. Leviathan's jaws widened and his mouth hung open like a great tunnel as he rushed forwards, laughing. Whether he saw Phantom standing there in a daze or not was unknown, but in an instant Phantom was swallowed whole into the abyss of Leviathan's gullet. Leviathan continued past where Phantom had stood, seemingly not even aware of what he had just done. Beside his twisting vortex of water he rose out of the cave and flew down the side of the mountain.

Outside, Leviathan snaked away from the waterfall he had created as he fell through the air, and veered back around the cliffs to the other side of the island. It only took him a few minutes to glide across the forested plains and reach the shoreline where Bismark's and the Committee's ships were anchored.

"Can't make it too easy for you, Sade!" he said gleefully, and plunged himself head-first straight through the Narsillian ship and into the waters below. Before anyone on board knew what had happened, the ship was split in two and explosions rocked the wreckage as it was sucked under the waves by Leviathan's passage. Leviathan paid no attention to the destruction he had caused and swam straight out to sea fast as a missile, his long row of dorsal fins slicing through the ocean like a hundred-foot shark as he disappeared over the horizon.

This was the only glimpse of the great Lord of the Seas that the spectators on the Maiden of the Sea managed to catch as they rushed onto the deck to see what had happened. Some of the sailors thought it was Latimeria returning to seek revenge, others swore they could hear a terrifyingly familiar laugh as the creature vanished over the waves. Draco and Kite were two of the people on the deck watching Leviathan as he swam away, and Kite knew at once who it was that had destroyed the other ship. She said nothing, but merely held Draco's hand tightly, waiting for that nightmarish laugh to leave her mind.

Draco saw as much of the carnage as anyone, and knew that whatever that creature had been, it had come from above and to the west, where Dune and the others had gone. He had heard strange sounds echoing across the island a while back, and knew something must be happening out there.

"Kite, stay here." Draco said quietly as he took her hand from his. "I have to go help our friends now."

"Alright...be care-" Kite started to speak, but was cut off as another explosion rang out across the island. Draco and Kite looked into the distance where the noise had come from and saw a great eruption of flame light up the sky over the mountain range in the distance. In a moment the shockwave from the explosion reached the ship and nearly capsized her.

Without a word, Draco quickly grabbed Kite's hand again and ran back into the ship. Whatever was happening, there was no way he could reach the mountain in its current state. As much as it pained him to make the decision, Dune and the others were on their own now, and Draco had to make sure this ship left before the calamity that was rocking the other side of the island reached them. Connor met them halfway across the deck and agreed, they had to get ready to leave as soon as possible. They all hoped Dune's group returned safe, but after the events they had just seen, despair was slowly creeping over them. The crew would wait for their captain until the last possible second, and perhaps even past that point, but they could not wait forever.

Back in the cavern, a new nightmare was upon the group as they struggled to stay above the rising waters. Despite the Ultima Gate remaining open and water steadily pouring out of the cavern, the stream continued to fill the room as if it had a mind of its own, and was intent on drowning everyone inside.

Genju had lifted Bismark, Alex, and Indie into the air with his four strong arms and now hovered above the rising water as best he could, the ceiling inching closer every minute. The exit to the cavern was blocked by the fierce vortex of water, and any attempt to leave would drown them all for sure.

Still struggling in the water below were Dehr and Cruz, helpless. They had no guardian angel like Genju, and it was all they could do to keep their heads above water.

"Please!" Dehr shouted out as she gasped for air. "Help us! Don't let us die like this!"

Genju looked at the pitiful woman and the fat man beside her, then looked at Bismark. "Should I help them, as well? Are they not your enemies, agents of the son of Moloch?"

"Aye," Bismark grumbled from under Genju's arm. "But they're still human beings like us. I know they'd let us rot, but we've got to help them if we can. Can you manage two more?"

"I can, but it will make it that much harder to stay above the water. Are you sure?"

Indie spoke up from the other side of Genju. "We've gotta do it. We aren't monsters like Levi, or whatever he's calling himself now."

Alex agreed. "If we all die in here, we'll die as humans. I don't want the last thing I ever do in this life to be murder, do you?"

"Do it." Bismark said.

Genju nodded wordlessly and circled over to where Dehr and Cruz struggled. With a single deft movement, he swooped down and grabbed both Committee members with his one free hand, letting them both hang on the powerful arm like monkeys on a branch. It was a ridiculous sight to see the five humans hanging onto the giant figure of Genju, but no one was complaining now that they were temporarily dry.

"Now is the time to prepare ourselves for Altimus's embrace, my sons and daughter," Genju said solemnly, and began to pray for safe passage to the afterlife.

"Look!" Indie shouted, pointing to the open gate.

The group turned, expecting some new horror to beset them. Another figure was materializing in front of the light shining through the gate. It was not like the monstrous form of Leviathan this time. The figure was definitely shaped like a human. A large human, but still within the possible. As the figure approached the now water-filled room, its features became clear.

It certainly was the size and shape of a very large human, but that's where the similarities ended. It had the appearance of a half-man, half-beast, with two fearsome horns rising from its forehead. It's dark-skinned body was heavily muscled and deeply scarred, with deadly sets of spikes on both its shoulders to complement the horns on its head. Sharp talons tipped its hands and feet, completing the picture of a devil straight from hell. The shockingly grey-white hair that covered its head flowed behind the creature in single great lock, like a pony-tail, but reaching halfway down its back.

It wore what looked like the tattered remains of clothing, the scraps covering its lower body like a loincloth. A few shreds of cloth still hung from the jagged edges of the spikes and horns. The one part of the figure before them that Bismark, Indie and Alex immediately noticed, to their intense dismay, was the old, wide-brimmed hat that rested ridiculously on the creatures head. There was no mistaking that hat. It was Dune's, passed down from his father, and now resting precariously between the horns of this...thing.

"Dune...?" Bismark said almost in a whisper, fearing what kind of voice would respond.

"I am...Dune." the creature answered, its voice a deep growl, but still understandable. And still human? Bismark prayed that note of familiarity he heard was really the Dune he knew and loved almost as a son. But what had he become?

Genju backed away from the creature that claimed to be Dune, now hovering slightly above the water in front of the gate.

"Demon of Chemosh, be you friend or foe?" he said warily.

"I am myself, I think," it said slowly, as if trying very hard to remember who "myself" was.

"I knew it!" Bismark yelled. "I told you he would win!"

"Yes...I managed to keep myself after all. It was so hard...but...I am still here." Dune said with effort.

"What happened?" Indie chimed in. "You say you're you, but look at yourself, Dune! You're an...Esper."

"An Esper...yes, that's what I am now. I could not hold on completely, I suppose, and Doom got this far," Dune swept one of his clawed hands over the ravaged body he now wore. "But I wouldn't let him win, I couldn't give up entirely, and now..."

"Now you're more powerful than all of us!" Bismark said almost cheerfully. "Never mind that you look like you got chewed up and spit out by that place, you're an Esper! And if Genju and Levi are any indication, you should be bursting with power, right?"

"Levi? So, he's already returned?" Dune said, still struggling with his words.

"Yeah, he turned into some kind of giant sea serpent and flew out of here. And he was the one who filled this place with water. Speaking of which, can't you do something to get us out of here?" Bismark was visibly happy, confident that Dune would save them all.

"I don't know, but I can try. Gotta save my friends, right?" Dune tried to make a friendly smile, but the sharp teeth only made him look like a wolf, ready to devour its prey.

Dune tensed his new body, about to use whatever unknown powers were now inside him, but stopped abruptly and turned around to face the blinding world he had just come from.

"Sade's coming. Now!" He shouted, his gravelly voice showing real emotion for the first time.

"Sade? Damn!" Bismark cursed. "I doubt he'll be willing to help us."

"No, he definitely-" Dune's words were cut off by a blast of red-hot energy that shot over his shoulder and towards Genju.

Genju saw it coming and dove downwards just in time to feel the fire singe the tips of his wings. He looked to see where the blast had come from, but could only see a mass of black smoke steadily flowing out of the open gate. Dune focused his energy and managed to push himself to where Genju hovered as the smoke cloud exited the gate around him.

"That's definitely Sade," Dehr spoke up quietly, not sounding at all like her normally confident self. "I'd know that feeling of dread anywhere."

The smoke continued to flow from the other world, shaping itself as it did. A deep crimson light glowed from within the cloud, and soon everyone could feel the heat Dehr had recognized. This was Sade, but what had Sade become?

The cloud froze in place after a moment, ceasing to seep out from the gate. Instantly, the gate grinded shut behind the cloud, shutting with the same crack that had signaled its opening. The smoke cloud now carried a definite shape, and towered over the others in the room like some giant djinn. Only Genju could compare to the size of the cloud, but even he was several meters shorter than the black form now coalescing and hardening around them.

As the black smoke solidified it glowed a bright red - the same bloody red that had marked Sade's armor. Soon, there was nothing but the glowing molten mass, forming, cooling and swirling into metal. As it cooled, molten globs of material dripped off it like blood, hissing as they vanished into the water below in puffs of steam. It was a hideous site, but all the eyes in the room were glued to the form as it shaped itself into something resembling human.

A huge collection of metal now recognizable as a suit of armor began to assert itself among the red plates of unholy metal, but nowhere could even the smallest fragment of flesh be seen. The bloody armor itself was the monster's body, and it flowed together in one continuous sheet like skin, some plates shaping and curving into what looked like muscles, but still clearly metallic and segmented.

Now the form of Sade could clearly be seen, and his new body resembled the carapace of some infernal insect, shaped into something vaguely humanoid. As the armor cooled, the red glow was replaced by a golden sheen, and the armor took on a coppery hue. It still dripped that molten blood from the narrow spaces and joints where the armor plates met and folded into each other, giving the armored hulk the appearance that is was bleeding from all over its red-gold body. It was a revolting site, but still no one could look away from the spectacle of Sade's transformation.

The last part to form was the head, or helmet if that was what it could be called. The helmet showed no human features at all and completely covered the head, with only one great slit where the eyes would be. Instead of eyes, there was just that same hellish light that had glowed from inside the cloud of smoke. The red molten metal oozed from this orifice like elsewhere, making it appear to be crying blood.

Sade's human body had been completely consumed by his fiery Master, and now only this metal shell remained.

"I...am...Sade..." the armored fiend spoke in a voice so deep it shook the walls and sent ripples through the water around it.

"My god..." Dehr said in shock. "Is this what we were trying to accomplish? Could this have been me? Sade...you're a monster!"

The Sade-thing showed no emotion on its face, in fact showed nothing at all for it had no human features to speak of, but the voice that echoed out from the glowing hole was definitely tinged with Sade's dark charisma.

"Eva, why do you tremble like a child? Isn't this the power you hungered for so badly? This is the power of an Esper, and it may still be yours if you join with me. Join with Moloch..." He finished in such a soothing tone that for a moment Dehr almost reached out for him. She wanted to touch that power, join with it like Sade commanded.

"You idiot!" Cruz shouted from beside her. "Don't let go of that arm or you'll fall into the water!"

Dehr turned away from Sade's form in shame, trying her best to resist his influence. Sade laughed and turned his gruesome visage onto Cruz next.

"Adam, I know this is what you want as well. With you and Eva beside me, we could usher in a glorious new world order, just the three of us. I know how badly you want to be at the top, Adam. This is your only chance to ever be somebody with real power. Join me in purifying this world!"

Cruz felt the irresistible pull of Sade's words just as Dehr had, and for a moment he thought what it would be like to not be stuck in the weak ugly body he had been given. Even if it meant looking like Sade did now...

"Enough! You two are fools to listen to him. He'll just fry you to a crisp along with the rest of the world!" Bismark shouted at them, but also shouted just to break the strange sense of heaviness that was filling the room the more Sade spoke. It was unbearably hot now, and it was becoming hard to concentrate. Bismark knew this was part of Sade's power, and he had to fight it. He had to get Dune to fight it, now that Dune was the only one that could.

"Dune! Now's the time to put that Esper body to good use. Fight Sade and put an end to him right here, before he can get out into the world! Only you can do it," Bismark was pleading by the time he finished, his strength fading. Even Genju was slowly descending closer to the now boiling water beneath them, his formidable strength reaching its limits. Anyone who fell into that seething maelstrom would be cooked alive in moments.

Dune strained himself and ascended to where Sade was keeping himself aloft with waves of heat. He was only a quarter the size of the giant brute, but he stood his ground without fear.

"Sade! This world will not end in flames as you desire! I will never let you leave this cavern."

Sade laughed, a grinding metallic laugh that sounded even less human than Levi's before him. "You jest, Doomed of Chemosh. I can and will leave this cavern, and there is nothing anyone, least of all you, can do to impede my progress. Watch as I reveal the power of an Esper of Moloch!"

Dune raised his hands to defend against whatever attack Sade was about to perform, but he knew immediately that any defense was futile. Sade was not going to attack Dune, or anyone else. He was curling himself into a ball, reddish light bursting from every bloody seam in his armor. He looked like a bomb ready to explode, and Dune knew instinctively that this was exactly what Sade was planning to do.

"Genju! We have to get out of here. NOW!" Dune yelled.

Genju saw the same thing Dune saw, but there wasn't anywhere to go. "Dune, we're trapped! Even if we tried to swim out now, we'd be killed by the boiling water!"

Dune watched helplessly as Sade's curled up body pulsed and glowed. The armor was impenetrable, and there was no way to stop Sade from completing his attack. Dune tore his gaze from Sade and let himself fall back down to Genju so fast it looked like he had lost control. Just as he reached the surface of the water he stopped himself and looked at Genju.

"Genju. Sade is going to destroy this entire mountain with a single blast. I can't stop him with my strength alone. But if we combine our strength, could we form a barrier that can survive the blast?"

Genju pondered the idea quickly, and nodded. "My powers are exactly that. I am an Esper of protection, and although I doubt even my power could push back Sade's evil energies, together we may be able to survive, at least for a few moments."

Dune tried to smile again, his wolf's fangs glinting in the red aura filling the cavern. "We'll only need a few moments. I'm not too sure of my powers yet, but if they're anything like before, I'm pretty sure I can cool the water around me enough so that you can get through it while your barrier is up. We may be able to get far enough away to survive the blast."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for, Dune!" Bismark interrupted. "Get us out of here!"

Dune looked at Bismark, and they both laughed.

"Right. Let's do it." Dune said. He shot himself towards the exit and motioned for Genju to follow him. As he moved, a cold blue aura shone around him, and as he hit the wall of water blocking the exit, steam exploded around him. As he said, the cold energy he was pushing out was cooling the water noticeably. It was still hot, but not boiling, and Genju might be able to shield himself and the others against it long enough to get out.

Sade apparently noticed them trying to escape. He kept himself in place as his body vibrated violently, and yelled out to the fleeing group.

"Fools! There is no escape from my power! It will reach every corner of this world and turn everything to ash!"

Sade's body stopped vibrating, and the red light surrounding him turned golden, then pure white. Dune was furiously fighting against the current but making progress. Genju was right behind him, focusing every ounce of his strength into keeping his barrier up. The sphere of light glowed a faint white and was barely visible, but it did its job and both Genju and his passengers were soaked, but not drowning, or boiled.

"I will purify you!" Sade's voice echoed behind them.

The blast was sudden and, at first, silent. A great white light plowed through the water and rock, enveloping Dune and Genju as they fled. Then the blast wave came with a deafening rush of sound. Dune and Genju had gone as far upwards through the tunnel as they were ever going to get, and both immediately turned to face the oncoming wave of destruction.

Genju held the five fragile humans tight in his grip and braced himself, feeling the cold aura of Dune flow into him and give him strength. It was an incredible power, and he knew that combined with his own energies, it would be the most powerful barrier he had ever made. But the energy he felt from Dune was not only powerful - it was dark, bottomless. He felt something familiar in that energy. Something he had felt once long, long ago. Genju cast a single cautious glance at Dune, but kept channeling his energy into the barrier. He must not let anything distract him.

The destructive force of Sade's power as it ravaged the surrounding area was nothing short of cataclysmic. The blast first evaporated all the water that was in the cavern in an instant, then began eating away at the rock walls. The white-hot light chewed through everything in its path, vaporizing rock as easily as water. Whether the immortal Ultima Gate survived the blast would never be known, but in a few seconds the entire cavern had been engulfed in the growing sphere of devastation, and nothing was left of the hallowed halls.

Dune and Genju kept their barrier up even as the cavern was destroyed from the inside. They saw the water around them turn to steam and vanish, and then the white light reached them, flowing around the barrier and dissolving the walls of the tunnel. Genju could feel the strain on the barrier, but it was holding. There was nothing to be seen but the all-consuming white light, battering their tiny bubble with every ounce of energy Sade could put out. Nothing could be heard but the roar of the light as it consumed everything it came into contact with. If it went on much longer, the barrier would fail, and none of them would even have time to realize they were dead.

But fate smiled on the group, and the white light soon began to turn back to gold, then dull red, and then it was gone. As sight and sound returned to the world, the group looked at what Sade had wrought. No one said anything as they took in the full extent of the blast's power. There were no words for the scene below them.

Great clouds of slowly falling debris filled much of their vision, but what they could see was not the rock walls of the mountain, but the clear blue sky outside. They had survived, but the mountain had not. The entire upper portion of the lofty peak had been blown to dust, and below them now seethed a molten pit of exposed magma over a mile across. The lake of fire was churning violently, forced to life by Sade's rash actions. Lava was seeping over the sides of the crater and into the surrounding area. The island itself might survive, but all life on it was doomed to be covered in wave after wave of red hot lava. Sade had wounded the planet deeply, and now its blood would boil over everything, purifying the land just as Sade had promised.

Sade himself was nowhere to be seen. Whether he had destroyed himself in the explosion or had escaped out of sight was unknown. No one believed he was really gone, though. When the time came he would show himself again, and next time they might not be so lucky. As they looked on in awe, they all knew one sobering truth - Sade really could destroy the world with this kind of power.

"I never knew..." Dehr said humbly. "This power...it's too much, too much..."

"And you fools helped bring it about." Bismark said savagely. He turned to where Dune hovered with visible effort. Flying did not seem to be as easy for him as it was for Genju or Leviathan. "Well, Dune. What do we do now?"

Genju responded to Bismark's question before Dune could answer. "We need to get away from here. I cannot fly forever, and Dune does not look like he can sustain flight for much longer. The island is no longer safe to land on, so I suggest we return to whatever vessels brought you here and plan our next move."

They all agreed, and Bismark led the group to the shore where an unexpected site greeted them.

"Where's our ship!" Cruz cried out in dismay.

As Genju circled closer towards the bay, they could see the smoldering remains of the Narsillian ship still poking out from the water. There were no survivors to be seen.

"Hmm, it would seem we weren't the only one's waging war on this island." Alex said softly. "Could Bismark's crew have attacked the other ship?"

"That's an act of war!" Cruz said angrily, but everyone else just looked at him to be silent. He grumbled something under his breath, but said nothing more.

"My crew wouldn't destroy another ship unless they were provoked, and even then not without my orders." Bismark stated with confidence. "Besides, my Maiden doesn't pack that kind of firepower. That ship looks like it was hit by a meteor. My little cannons couldn't split a boat in two."

"Let's just wait until we get on board and ask Connor himself," Indie said, hoping to avoid unnecessary argument between the two groups in Genju's arms.

The two Espers and their cargo were greeted with looks of amazement and fear as they descended onto the deck of the Maiden. Bismark got to his feet as soon as Genju touched down, and went straight to where Connor and Draco were standing, dumbstruck. He learned about Leviathan's rampage, and satisfied that it wasn't his crew that had destroyed the other ship, he issued the order to raise anchor.

"We don't have time to explain what's going on. This island's about to get very uncomfortable, and we need to leave. Now."

"Yes, sir!" Connor said automatically, and despite his curious looks at Genju and Dune, he dutifully dashed away to prepare to leave. In moments the ship was moving steadily away from island, which was now covered in a thick haze of smoke and ash as the lava carved its away across the plains, burning everything it touched.

Draco remained where he was and looked first at Genju, then at Dune. He saw the grey-white hair, then the strangely out of place hat that had become stuck on one of his horns, and he knew in an instant who this being was.

"Dune? Is that really you?"

"Yes," Dune said tiredly. "It's a long story, but it's still me. We'll fill you in on the way back. Right now, I'm about ready to pass out, and I need to rest."

"But where are we going now?" Draco asked. The others were curious, as well.

"I'm not sure, but I think Doom wanted me to go back to Narsille before I shook his power off. I think that's where Sade and Levi are headed now as well." Dune finished and sat himself down, exhausted.

"But what can we do about them?" Indie said with a hopelessness that was unusual for him. "Together, they're unstoppable. What point would there be in going back and hunting them down? They'd just flick us away like insects."

"And why would they both return to Narsille anyways? They have the whole world at their fingertips now." Alex added.

"Hm..."

It was Genju, and he looked like he was thinking very hard about something. After a moment of reflection he spoke, and all eyes were on him. If anyone knew what the mind of an Esper was like, he would.

"As powerful as they are, they are still only the pawns of the Fallen Masters. Their will is the will of the dark gods Moloch and Astarte. I do not know what it portends, but it seems the Vessels are still in control of their bodies, which means the Fallen Masters are not completely free. They must need more power to manifest themselves in this world."

"More power?" Cruz said in disbelief. "Did you not see what Sade did to that mountain? How much more power could they possibly need?"

Genju glanced at Dune before continuing. He still was worried about that unfathomable well of dark energy he had felt when he had joined his powers with Dune's. Was it possible...? He shook his doubt away and kept talking.

"The Vessels of the Fallen Masters are nothing more than tools. Powerful tools, but not fit to house the full glory of a god. Now that they are Espers, I feel that the Fallen Masters will use their Vessel's immense magical powers to bring themselves fully into this world. If the full power of the Masters of Fire, Ice and Lightning were to rage across the planet unchecked, it would bring about an unbalancing that would rip apart the very fabric of reality. There would be nothing left, and not even the true gods could reform our world after such a cataclysm."

"But why? Why would gods try to do something like this?" Indie asked.

"I truly do not know, nor do I know how they could manifest themselves in the mortal world if entering the Nexus wasn't enough. But that must be what they plan, and once they are here, they will vie for control, and as they war with each other for supremacy, the world will be destroyed. That much I have gleaned from the Crystalline Prophecy."

"That again?" Bismark remarked with disdain. "Who came up with that anyways? No one, not even a god, can know the future with absolute certainty."

"You would do well to be silent on forces that are far beyond your understanding." Genju said with equal disdain. "The Prophecy was handed down to me personally from the Holy Master Altimus. Through him all the forces of this world flow, and if his words cannot be trusted, then there is no point believing in anything. Have faith, young one."

"I'm not young, and I won't believe in anyone that thinks they know what my fate is better than me." Bismark snapped.

"Enough." Indie said loudly. He knew Bismark's opinions well enough, and he could see the pious Genju was his polar opposite. "Bismark, we don't know what's going on right now. For the moment let's forget about prophecies and elder gods and just focus on what we can do here, now."

"So what _can_ we do, Indie?" Bismark said hotly.

Indie looked at Dune, half-unconscious with fatigue, then at Genju, who still seemed to be brimming with holy power. "Genju, is there anything at all we can do? You can't really expect us to just give up and wait for the end of the world now that we have two Espers of our own to fight Sade and Levi?"

Genju glanced at Dune, then spoke as honestly as he could about their situation. "I am not an Esper of war, and Dune does not seem to have total control over his powers yet. Besides..." Genju glanced at Dune again, but shook his head and returned his gaze to the others. "No, we do not have the force necessary to simply beat the others into submission." Genju remained silent for a moment, thinking.

"However, it might be possible to drive the influence of the Fallen Masters from Sade and Leviathan, rendering them powerless...or at least not quite as powerful. Alas, we would need the one holy relic who's whereabouts is unknown to accomplish this feat."

"And that would be...?" Indie said curiously. Bismark stopped looking sullen and watched Genju carefully, a strange glint in his eyes.

"The Nacre," Genju said sadly. "It has the power to bring the light of hope into even the darkest times. If I still had it, I could channel the power of Altimus that flows within me through it, and through His divine power I might be able to exorcise the foul demons and send them back into their prisons of crystal."

"So where did it go?" Indie continued. He remembered the Nacre. Jehad had been the last person he had seen with it, although Silas seemed to have had it during their final desperate struggle thirty years ago. What had happened after that? Indie's memory was a blur.

"I truly do not know," Genju said. "I sense it still exists in this world, but its location is lost to me."

Bismark had heard enough. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and spoke. "I know where it is."

"What?" Indie said with surprise and consternation.

"I know where the damned thing is. It's at the bottom of the ocean. I threw it there just a couple months ago when we were back on the Mordic."

"What are you saying?" Indie said again, even more confused than before.

"I...made a promise to Silas before he died. He wanted me to return the thing to the ocean, but he said I had to do it at the right time. When we returned to the Mordic thirty years later, it just felt right. So I tossed it over. Silas seemed to think it was important, so I did what he asked and kept it with me for all those years."

Genju laughed, a sweet musical laugh that rang across the boat. This was the first time any of them had seen him actually happy, and it came as quite a shock how beautiful his laugh was.

"My friends, then all hope is indeed not lost, and the gods smile on us yet!"

You'll have to explain that one to us, Esper," Bismark said.

"Surely this is all part of the great plan of Altimus." Genju continued happily. "The Nacre was formed from the bosom of the Maiden of Water, Elia. Just as the Master of Earth, Gaeus, forged the gravity crystals, and Altimus himself formed the Pearl of Order, Elia created the Nacre for mankind. It is her gift to bestow when she sees fit, and now it has been returned to her in good faith. I have no doubt that when the time is right, she will deliver it back to us. Until then, she guards it beyond the reach of those who might abuse it."

"That's a lot of high talk, old man." Bismark said. "But the fact is, we don't have it now. So what do we do?"

"We return to Narsille. That is where the battle will be waged, and that is were we must make our stand, somehow." Genju said solemnly. "I have faith that the Nacre will appear when we need it most, shining its ray of hope in the darkness. As long as we stay on the path the gods have set before us, we will not fail." Genju laughed again. "It's strange. I feel hopeful for once. I have spent a long time in the darkness of exile, but I now feel like my day of absolution is upon me. Altimus works in strange ways to bring me here among mortals once again, and under such strange circumstances."

"Well I'm glad somebody seems happy," Bismark said, but with a smile on his face. "So. What about you two? Will you help us?" He glanced at the miserable-looking Dehr and Cruz, completely out of place on the ship of their enemy.

"We have our own goals, but our first priority is the protection of Narsille." Dehr said with some of the air of president returning to her. "You may think we're monsters like Sade, but I can assure you that I have never meant any harm to Narsille. All I wanted was for my great city to throw off its isolationist ideals and expand to the rest of the world. I thought Sade could do that for me, but now I see his idea of power and mine are a bit different."

"Yeah, Sade wants to destroy the world, and you want to rule it." Bismark said evenly. "You sound a little like Levi now, and I don't know if I like that any better."

"We're nothing like that madman!" Cruz said angrily. "We'll do what we can to save our city. If we can get there in time, we can at least attempt to mobilize the city's forces and put up some kind of defense. Maybe get the citizens to start evacuating if it comes to that."

"I think that sounds like a pretty good idea, which is surprising coming from you, Cruz," Bismark said light-heartedly. Things were looking more hopeful by the minute.

"I agree," Dehr said. "It's time we put our differences aside for the moment and focus on the protection of Narsille. I'm sure the other heads of the city will agree to help us, assuming we can make it back in time. I fear we have spent far too much time talking, and if we don't hurry, there won't be a city left to save."

"Yah, I think we've gabbed enough," Bismark said cheerfully. "I'll give the order to return to Narsille as fast as possible, and then we'll see what the gods have in store for us."

"You're entirely too happy about the current state of affairs, Mobius," Alex said, feeling the infectious wave of optimism as well.

"Well then, if everything is settled, can someone please fill me in on what is going on?" Draco said good-naturedly, having patiently listened to the others talk about things he didn't even pretend to understand. "I have the feeling this story will take us the rest of the voyage back."

The feeling that everything was going to turn out for the best had filled the entire crew with a new sense of hope, even as they left the flaming wreckage of Crescent Island behind them. Lives had been lost here, and no one forgot that for a moment, but now a great many more lives were at stake, and they couldn't help but feel like they were heroes out of legend, destined to save the world.

Genju knew this was all a lie, and that dark times were coming despite his newfound hope. But he had faith in his master, and hoped that his unspoken fears turned out to be false. He felt the world would be saved if Altimus deemed it worth saving, but how many of the people around him would lose their lives for the great plan of his master? Would he, too, be asked to lay down his life at last in the service of the Order?

He looked at Dune, now asleep right on the deck, utterly spent. He noticed in one of his hands he still clutched the gravity crystal, its cold face empty and black. He prayed to Altimus with all his heart that his suspicions were wrong, for if they weren't, they may not have any chance at saving the world after all, and a great era of darkness would reign before the world saw even the faintest glimmer of hope.


	64. Dream's End, 'Rude Awakening'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

_Magic... Its power has shaped our world from the beginning, and even now, its after-effects still ripple across time to unknown ends. The Espers, creatures of magic themselves, knew many secrets of this mercurial force that they kept from humans, and with good cause. Magic is the stuff of dreams, bringing the deepest desires of its wielder to life. But it is also the stuff of nightmares, capable of taking the fear, hatred, and weakness inherent in all people and twisting it into the most grotesque of forms. Out of these dreams and nightmares the Espers awoke - beings forged of raw will, imbued with the very essence of reality. Some were beacons of hope, shining across generations. Others were devils, bent only on their own wicked hearts. And still others maintained no alignment, wanting nothing but solitude to reflect on their unique existences. All of them, however, were once held in thrall by the divine masters who forged them, slaves to powers far beyond them, and even farther beyond us humans._

_My travels have led me far and wide, and only now do I appreciate the scope of our shared destiny. I feel the years weighing ever more heavily upon me, and I feel that soon the final answers that I have sought will be granted to me by these powers that be. Before then, I must complete my history, and make sure the world never forgets the mistakes and tragedies of the past. Perhaps it is all for naught...perhaps the world is destined to endlessly destroy and revive itself. But perhaps there is an end to the story, and I must not give up hope that humanity can shape that ending, heal the wounds of the past, and create something that will last for all time. And for that, I would gladly spend a lifetime._

-From _Beyond the Veil_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 34 AF

* * *

**Part 8.1 - Ruide Awakening**

How many eons had it been? Throughout the ages, through wars, floods, fires, and famine, the Pearl had shone. It had witnessed atrocities unspeakable and acts of valor that were now legend. It had seen the greatness of mankind, both in good as well as evil. And through it all, it had slumbered peacefully, for good and evil were both necessary to maintain the Balance. The troubles and achievements of mankind had never threatened to disturb the Pearl's deep, timeless sleep. But now, it trembled. For the first time in its unfathomable lifespan, it felt fear.

Yes, it was alive, in a distant sort of way. It was an artifact of Altimus, the Holy Master, and as with all things of his making, it held the spark of life. It's mind was no more than the simple pulses of reflex, reading and responding to the ebb and flow of the lines of Balance that flowed throughout the world, but it knew fear, the most primal of all emotions.

The very fabric of reality had been struck a mighty blow somewhere, and the rippling effect of such an assault was just now reaching the Pearl's instinctive mind through the lines of force that kept the world's energy moving according to the laws set down by the Masters at the beginning of time. Something new had happened. Something had been unleashed into the mortal world that should never have been. Magic, raw and uncontrolled.

The Pearl of Order shook violently on its pedestal, deep under the troubled city of Narsille. There was no one in the great hallway to see this strange reaction, for only Sade himself was permitted into this hallowed area. Only a shattered statue and an all-pervading silence filled the room. If the Pearl could speak, it would have groaned in pain. As it was, it did the only thing its primal intelligence knew in this situation. It ceased its glow for the first time in millennia, and faded to a pale, opaque white. Then it grew grey as a swirl of darkness suffused its surface and spread. The grey turned darker and darker, and in a moment the entire structure of the Pearl had changed. It had turned a deep, all-absorbing black. Order had been lost, the Balance thrown to chaos.

Above the Order's sanctuary, a new wave of terror was rushing across the city of Narsille. The relentless storm that had covered the city for weeks was now reaching catastrophic levels of ferocity. The rain had become a torrential downpour, threatening floods in a location that had never known such disasters. Hurricane force wind beat against the mythril towers and lightning and thunder flashed and roared with unceasing rage.

In one of these towers, a lone woman looked out over this maelstrom from high above the city streets. Something was happening outside that she had never seen before, and somewhere out there her husband must be fighting for his life. Or was he already dead? She did not know anything, anything at all. This wave of dread and fear, real fear, had washed away her petty quibbles that had so consumed her only a few days ago.

This tired, confused woman was Mae Karn, wife of Dune Karn. She now stood in their apartment, surveying the aftermath of what must have been a life or death struggle. The entire apartment looked like it had been exposed to the angry forces howling outside her window. When she had left the apartment it had not looked like this. How long ago had it been? A few weeks? A month, maybe more? She didn't even know anymore.

When she had left this apartment last, she had left Dune in a rage, convinced their marriage was falling apart, all because of his stupid job. He was going on yet another "mission" for who knew how long, and she was supposed to just accept it, like always. Except this time, she hadn't accepted it. She had had too little time with him since the previous mission, and he had acted coldly to her the entire time, never once considering how his constant absence tortured her. The stranger that had returned from the desert in bandages was not her husband anymore.

She had stayed away for a few days, collecting her thoughts, never once thinking it would be so long before she returned. She had left the city to return to her parent's rural home to the south, intending to only stay a few days. But a few days had turned into a week, and then a month, and only when she had heard the news leaking out of Narsille about the unheard of storm had she tried to return.

When she had reached the magnificent mythril gates of the city, though, she found that she was not allowed to return! The city had been put under a state of emergency, and no one was allowed to enter or leave the city while the storm raged on. She could not reach anyone inside while she stayed at her parents' home, since Narsille's wondrous electrical network only extended as far as the city walls, like much of its technological wizardry. The city was truly an island of dreams, cut off from the outside world.

No matter how hard Mae tried to get in contact with anyone inside, she was instantly rebuffed. No guards would take her messages, and since no one was allowed into the city, she could not pass along any letters. Narsille was on its own, and so was Mae. She could see the black clouds churning behind the great gate, and knew she had to get back to her home inside.

That had been two weeks ago. Since then the storms had suddenly worsened, and the quiet dread that had been growing inside the hearts of the people had turned to real fear. Someone must have realized how close to total panic the citizens of Narsille were, for they had opened the gates wide and kept them open. People were free to leave the city, and great crowds now filled the staging area around the gate, night and day. Hundreds of vehicles plied the mountainous roads that led away from the city as the desperate and frightened masses woke up from their long dream of undisturbed peace.

So Mae had walked back into her homeland without trouble, working against the surge of bodies all heading in the opposite direction, but there was nothing reassuring about walking the familiar streets of Narsille. The sky was black, even though it was the middle of the day, and on every face she saw was the same haggard look of dull fear. _Escape, escape, escape._ This was the overwhelming thought she saw on every face she passed as she made her way back to her apartment tower.

And now here she stood, back in her apartment, looking out at the storm outside, and trying to salvage the aftermath of the storm that had passed inside. But Dune was not here, still. Was he still on his mission? Surely not. That had been nearly two months ago. But who knew what that Committee was thinking anymore? She cursed herself for not waking up and returning sooner. Her mother had told her she was being petty, and that she had to stick by her husband now more than ever. But she had not listened, and had brooded.

She had expected Dune to come rushing down and rescue her, like a knight out of a story. But he had never given any sign he even knew she was gone. How could he when she hadn't even told him where she was going? For all he knew, she was still on some extended shopping spree. Maybe now he could see what it was like to not know the fate of someone you loved, she had thought while she sat in her parent's house.

But now that she stood alone in their apartment while an unbelievable storm raged outside, she felt like a fool. This was real danger now, not some lover's spat. Her husband was out there somewhere, and she didn't know what to do. When she tried to call someone at the Committee headquarters, there was no response. The news said nothing except the same tired reports of widespread panic and storm damage. There were even rumors of creatures sighted high above the city, flying among the clouds and calling down lightning. Ridiculous how the city had fallen apart over a storm! And yet, she felt the same fear as everyone else, and wondered what she was supposed to do now. Above all else, she would not panic.

So she did the only thing left for a loyal wife in times like this. She waited. She waited for husband to return home now, to atone for her lack of patience and understanding before. As long as this tower kept standing, she would stay and keep vigil for her missing husband.

A brilliant flash illuminated the sky outside her window, and for a brief moment she saw it. There had definitely been something soaring through the skies, right at eye level and only a few dozen meters from where she stood. It had only been an instant, but that had been enough. Some giant flying creature had glided past her tower at an amazing speed, calling the storm to it like a lightning rod as it passed. When the next flash of lightning lit the skies again a moment later, it was gone. Her heart had leapt into her throat at the sight of it, and it now beat furiously, an icy cold fear she could not name stealing into her veins.

Was this the mystery monster the television had been referring to? It was immense, and did not look like any bird she had ever seen. It was long and slender, like a snake, and seemed to simply swim through the air. But so fast! She could feel the vibrating of the glass and a great roar like a train as it had passed. And that eye! She may have passed it off as some new missile Narsille had developed if it wasn't for that grotesque fish-eye that glowered at her from the dark. Had it seen her? The eye had seemed to stare into her soul, and froze her in place with terror. But then it was all black again, and the thing had vanished back into the storm.

That terrifying sighting of the unknown convinced Mae beyond all doubt. She would stay inside and wait for Dune to return. There were horrors waiting for her outside, and nothing would force her back outside now. She prayed for Dune to be safe, feeling more powerless now than she ever had in her life.

Far below Mae's apartment, in another part of the besieged city, Dr. Atma and Maria Chere were about to face their own horrors in the storm.

Maria had stayed in Atma's office/apartment after her initial visit, having nowhere else to go. Atma had received her graciously, even happily. He had not known what it was to have company that he actually enjoyed for many long years. Maria had entered the city while the gates were still open, and then had found herself stuck inside once the gates had been shut against all comings and goings.

Outside, the storm may have draped the city in darkness, but inside Atma's humble home, Maria shone as brightly as the morning star. She had brought with her the hopeful imaginings of a mother-to-be, and her optimism for her future was infectious. As she talked about her children, her husband and her homeland, Atma listened eagerly. He knew very little of the lives of the people beyond the walls of Narsille, except what horrors he gathered as a war doctor. Maria's sweet voice livened up his days now, and the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to leave this city and see the places and people she talked about. He had seen enough of war and of Narsille. All he wanted now was peace.

He might have already left the city with Maria if the gates hadn't been locked tight. What were those fools up there thinking? Was there anyone in control of the city now? It didn't seem like it, but Atma had never had a positive opinion of the people in charge of the city. This recent disaster and the handling of it only reinforced his views that this city was a city of mindless drones.

When word had reached them that the gates had been opened for anyone desiring to leave or enter, Atma and Maria were thrilled. As soon as they had stepped foot outside, though, their joy turned to fear. The storm had risen to a frightful pitch, and it was almost impossible to navigate in its inky blackness. Deep streams of water now flowed down either side of the roads, and the wind flung debris of all shapes and sizes through the air, making any attempt to leave the city dangerous. But they could still see many people braving the elements, desperate to flee the city before things got worse. Perhaps these people weren't such lazy sheep, after all, Atma thought.

Even worse than the wind and rain, a strange black mist that looked like smoke was slowly rising out from the grates along the city's streets. Atma and Maria stood outside his office home for a few minutes and watched the smoke rise like a ghost, crawling along the ground as it spread from underground. Soon it had reached the sidewalk where they stood, and all it took was one grasping tendril at their ankles to send them back inside. Whatever was creeping through the city now, it was too dangerous to simply walk out. They would need to find a vehicle to get them safely to the city's gates.

Atma turned on the television to see if the news had anything to say about this new danger outside. Sure enough, reports were coming in from all over the city about smoke rising from under the streets and blanketing the ground. Already people had been hospitalized after inhaling even a small amount of the strange smoke. There were also reports of strange creatures in the sky as well. There were no explanations for any of these strange tidings from the Narsillian scientists, however. No words of encouragement from the people who were supposed to be in control, either. Had the city already been abandoned by its leaders? Atma wondered if perhaps they had missed their chance at escape. It really seemed like the city was falling apart around them, faster and faster.

Maria looked at Atma with a face full of worry, wondering what they were going to do next. She knew her life was in her doctor's hands now. How lucky she had been to find him when she did! She couldn't even imagine wandering the streets outside now. The storm had been nightmarish enough before, but with these new horrors, she would surely have died by now.

"Don't worry, Maria," Atma said in a kindly tone few people had ever heard him use. "Things aren't as bad as they seem. I'm sure the reports are exaggerations, and flying monsters in the sky? Nothing but delusions from panicked fools. We'll be safe as long as we stay inside. I'll make sure nothing happens to us, trust me." He smiled, and Maria smiled weakly in return.

Their brief feeling of safety was shattered with a ear-splitting boom from beneath them. The ground shook violently, sending them both to the floor. The tiny people on the television screen shook and fell as well, and after a chaotic swing of the camera view, the station went out. The floor swept upwards, held for a terrifying second, then crashed back down. The floor shook sideways, then back up, down, left right. Atma and Maria were tossed mindlessly around their room, struggling for balance. Atma held Maria tight, trying to keep her pregnant body from being jostled as best he could.

The earth shook for several minutes, threatening to bring the entire mountain of mythril and steel above them crashing down. But the sturdy tower held, and after a breathless silence, the floor of the room shuddered one more time and then fell several feet, stopping suddenly. The building had held, but the ground was torn to pieces all around them.

As Atma helped Maria to her feet, the power went out, cloaking them in total darkness and silence. Was it his imagination, or could he hear screams from outside?

Atma knew this was the moment where the panic that had been building in the city would now explode. First a loss of command, then a loss of communication, and now loss of power. Soon people would begin pouring into the smoke-filled streets, heedless of any danger. The primal instinct to _flee, flee, flee_ would certainly be triggered now, and the wondrous city of dreams would bleed itself to death in a few blazing hours.

But where would Atma and Maria find themselves in this exodus? A fear like nothing he had ever felt crept into Atma's mind and heart. He felt true hopelessness descend upon him, and wondered very seriously if this would be the last day of his life. His heart ached for Maria, so full of hopes and dreams, and the children he was becoming increasingly sure she would never see.

Maria must have seen some of the fear in Atma's face, for she tried to smile, but only managed to break out in tears, holding onto Atma's coat tightly like a lost child. Atma held onto her just as tightly, hoping beyond his usual pessimism that somehow they would find a way out of this city of nightmares.

Outside, the smoke continued to pour out onto the lightless streets, and a dull red glow was now pulsing out from the grates in the road. Aftershocks continued to pummel the city, like giants beating on the surface of the earth from below. Something was definitely waking up beneath the city of Narsille.


	65. Dream's End, 'Sleeping Giant'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.2 - Sleeping Giant**

"Can we really trust him?"

Draco looked at the monstrous form sleeping on the bed in front of him. Its huge limbs spilled over the bed's edges, claws scraping against the floor. The rhythmic sound of deep breathing filled the small quarters, and a faint hint of a growl lingered beneath each exhalation. The others said it was Dune...but was it really? Draco had not known Dune as long as the others, and had only known him as an enemy before he met the man. But now this man was a monster, and Draco wondered if maybe his first impression was actually the right one.

"I truly do not know." Genju's deep, ancient voice. "For now, though, I would exercise caution. We still do not know the full extent of Dune's transformation, or if this is really Dune at all."

"Have you forgotten already? He just saved all our lives, you old buzzard!" Bismark exclaimed heatedly. He stood close to Dune's side, the only person on board willing to stay so close to the "monster". "I trust him with my life, and so should the rest of you." Bismark looked at each of the men in the room, daring them to say something against his friend.

"Mobius...you have to realize what has happened to Dune," Alex said with forced calmness. "This...transformation, it's something completely out of our experience. I'm amazed Dune seemed as calm as he did when he came back looking the way he does. If it were me, I don't think I would be able to take it. The immediate danger we were all in may have kept his mind focused at the time, but when he wakes up and looks in the mirror..."

"Alex is right," Indie said. "It's not that we don't trust Dune. Becoming an Esper...it's a lot to take in, and we're just worried how Dune is going to handle it when he comes to."

Bismark grumbled, but didn't argue. He knew he was being overly sensitive, but this was still Dune, dammit! He would be there for his friend when he awoke, and treat him exactly as he always had.

"They are right," Genju said. "The final ordeal is a traumatic one, and there is no telling how a person will be affected by it, or how they will take losing their humanity afterwards. I spent many years finding myself again after I was chosen to become an Esper. Dune was forced into the transformation against his will, and it will not be easy for him to cope with his new identity at first."

Genju did not voice his suspicions that Dune might not be fully in control of his body yet. He had felt the cold energy flowing from Dune during their dire escape from Sade's awesome new power, and knew from whence that energy came. But it was too soon to tell, and the captain was right - Dune had saved all their lives.

"Pah!" Bismark grunted. "Dune's tougher than he looks. I have faith in him, even if the lot of you don't." That was Bismark's final word on the subject, and he looked away from the others in moody silence.

"What should we do now?" Draco asked after Bismark had calmed down. "It's still a week's journey back to Narsille, and Sade and Leviathan are most likely far ahead of us, judging from Leviathan's speed."

"It will still take Sade and Leviathan time to return to Narsille, even with their Esper powers," Alex said thoughtfully. "They are not gods, and will need to rest just like us, right?" Alex looked at Genju for confirmation, and the old Esper nodded in agreement.

"Our advantage is that we have a ship that can move non-stop, even while we sleep. I know Bismark hates using the engines..." Alex glanced at Bismark with a smile, but the captain remained silent and sulky. Alex shrugged and continued, "but we've been running them at full blast for several days now, and I think we'll be able to catch up to those two. At most, I think we'll only be a day behind them."

"What about Dune? When will he wake up?" Indie said with concern. Dune had fallen into a deep sleep after exhausting his powers in their escape, and had remained unconscious for days.

"He must rest," Genju said. "He has over-exerted himself and it will take time for his new body to recover. I am sure Sade and Leviathan are recuperating somewhere as well, as Alex said. We must be patient and let him recover on his own time while we continue towards Narsille."

"And what then?" Draco asked. "Dune said they were returning to Narsille, but why? What's there that they would want?"

"I do not know," Genju said. "These events are not like anything that has ever happened in my lifetime. The fallen Masters must have their reasons for sending their Espers to this city of yours. I fear I have been in exile for too long, and no longer know what the world of man has become in my absence."

"Well, Narsille is the home of the Order of the Pearl," Draco said. "They seem to be mixed up in all of this. Maybe they have something to do with what's happening now?"

Genju ruffled his wings in agitation at Draco's words. "I am the founder of the Order of the Pearl! I know not what my followers have done since I left them, but they would never knowingly bring about the chaos that is now upon us. No, this Sade, who wore a mockery of our robes, is the one responsible for the current crisis. He has used my Order for his own ends, and it is to him we must assign blame."

"Don't forget those Committee fools," Indie added. "They let Sade get this far. I doubt they knew what Sade was really planning, but they knew enough."

"Well, they don't seem to have any more idea what he's planning now than we do," Alex said. "Crescent Island was as far as their plans went. I'm guessing they thought they'd find some ancient weapon or power source there. I almost feel sorry for them."

"I don't," Bismark spat from Dune's bedside.

"They seem to be trying their best to help us now, though." Indie said. "We may have been enemies, but they really seem to care about what happens to their city, at least. They're squirreled away in their own quarters now, trying to sort out how they're going prepare Narsille for Sade's return. I tried to help them, but the logistics of running a city that size is way over my head."

"The question is, what are we going to do to help once we get there?" Draco said. "I am unfamiliar with your city, so I am afraid I won't be able to do much..."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Indie replied. "It's up to Dune and Genju now, I think. Magic against magic, right? We'll do our best to help the citizens when the time comes I suppose. Not much else for old men like us, eh?" Indie let out a weak laugh at his own uselessness.

"Narsille has a population of over four million people," Alex said. "If it comes down to an evacuation, they're going to need people like us who know the city and how it works. Even you, Draco. You're a leader of men, and leaders are what's needed right now. Don't worry, you'll be needed." Draco smiled at Alex's compliment. "I plan on going straight underground to get the Figaro and the other movers," Alex continued. "The entire fleet could safely transport a hundred thousand people out of the city if needed."

Indie shook his head somberly. "A hundred thousand out of four million... If it really comes down to an evacuation, it will be pure mayhem. I shudder at the thought of all those poor people trying to squeeze out of that trap of a city." Indie rubbed his wrinkled forehead in dismay. "Four million people and only one exit...what were we thinking?"

No one had anything to say to this sober realization, and the conversation quickly petered out. For now they could do nothing but wait anxiously and hope they beat Sade and Leviathan to Narsille.


	66. Dream's End, 'The Esper'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.3 - The Esper**

On the seventh day of the Maiden's return voyage, Dune awoke.

"Dune! At last!"

Bismark was the only person in Dune's quarters when he awoke. He was half-asleep himself, but he had never left Dune's side for the entire week they had been traveling. With the ship moving entirely on the electric power of Alex's engines, Bismark didn't have much captaining to do, and that was fine with him.

Bismark rubbed his eyes and smiled wide. He had begun to think Dune would never return to them, and that he would have to face Levi alone. He was prepared to do that, even if Levi had become a monster. Bismark had sworn long ago that he would make Levi pay for what he had done, even if it cost him his own life. That victory had been snatched away from him when Levi miraculously reappeared on Crescent Island. And now...now Levi was Leviathan, and Bismark was convinced only Dune's new power could stand up to him.

Dune! At last!" Bismark repeated, eagerly watching as Dune struggled to release himself from the bonds of unconsciousness.

"Bismark...where...?" was all Dune could say.

"We're still on the Maiden, Dune," Bismark said softly. "We're returning to Narsille like you said, and should be there in a couple days. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. Tired, but fine." Dune said with a little more energy than before. He raised his clawed hands and flexed his cruel fingers one by one, studying them with a look of curiosity, but still said nothing about his new form.

Bismark watched Dune closely as he recovered. He was looking for any signs that Dune was not himself, that he might be dangerous. Bismark didn't believe it for a second, but his friends insisted that Dune be monitored. For his own safety, they said.

One thing that Bismark noticed immediately upon Dune's revival were his friend's eyes. They were completely blue now, and that was something Bismark didn't like. He had seen those eyes before, when Dune was overwhelmed with the power of that accursed crystal. And now the shade was permanent, it seemed.

As for the crystal, it was now attached to a cord and hung around his neck. Whenever they had tried to move it away from him while he slept, a look of intense pain would steal over his face, and the growling under his breathing would increase to a ferocious snarl. They knew better than to tempt fate. Dune's uncontrolled rage when his possession of the crystal felt threatened was horrible enough while he was human. No one wanted to find out what it would be like if the crystal was taken from him now that he was an Esper.

Dune slowly looked down at his new body, taking in his transformation. He still said nothing, and Bismark could still see no signs of panic while he watched Dune. Bismark could see no signs of emotion at all in the twisted demon's face that only bore a distant resemblance to his old friend. At least he thought there was nothing there - the face was so foreign with its fangs and all-blue eyes that it was hard to read anything human in it at all. It was a horrible thing to happen to any one, and Bismark felt intensely sorry to see his friend in this state.

"I'm sorry, Dune...," Bismark said as gently as he could. "I know it must be a shock, but you're what that Genju feller calls an 'Esper' now."

"Yes, an Esper." Dune said thoughtfully.

"Dune...are you sure you're alright?" Bismark asked. He was beginning to worry that maybe Dune was in shock.

The blue eyes flicked towards Bismark, and to his intense relief, Dune smiled. "I'm fine, Bismark, really. I guess I scared you all for a while, didn't I?"

"You sure as hell did!" Bismark said with some of his old gruffness.

"Sorry. I guess this body will take some getting used to. How bad is it?"

Bismark smiled, despite the sadness he felt at his friend's condition. "You look like hell, Dune."

"Yes, I would have to agree." Dune said, still smiling as he studied his new body.

"Don't worry about Mae. We will find her, and when we do, we'll do our best to prepare her for this."

Dune looked at Bismark with a blankness that frightened the old man. "Mae...?"

"Dune! Snap out of it. Mae, your wife!"

"Ah, sorry." Dune said quickly. That sounded more like the old Dune to Bismark, always quick to apologize. "Of course, how could I forget Mae! Sorry if I worried you, my mind is still blurry after..."

"You don't need to say a thing, m'boy. For now, we need you to regain your strength. I'll fill you in on what's going on once you're ready. This thing's not over yet, and we'll need your help once we get back to Narsille."

Bismark started to reach for Dune to pat his shoulder, but hesitated. Then he shook his head and laughed, gripping his friend's shoulder firmly. The laughter died out abruptly when he felt the icy coldness of Dune's hard new skin. It was like trying to comfort a rock, and Bismark pulled his hand away awkwardly. He knew this was still his friend, but what a horrible thing to happen to someone as gentle as Dune!

"Sorry, Dune. This will take some getting used to, for all of us." Bismark said sadly. "I'll go let the rest of the crew know you're awake." He got up with some effort, and walked out of the room.

Over the next two days, the crew came to see Dune one by one, with mixed reactions of horror, pity, and sometimes suspicion. Dune didn't seem bothered by the crew's reactions, and seemed to accept his new identity with as much grace as could be expected under such trying circumstances.

Genju was the last to see Dune, and he left the fellow Esper's company with much the same impression as he had before. The man seemed to be adapting to his new form well, but Genju couldn't shake his earlier suspicions. It was those eyes. Genju did not like how empty those blue spheres looked.

By the final day of the voyage home, Dune was ready to leave his cabin. Bismark was hesitant to let him walk among the rest of the crew, knowing full well the fear that surrounded his friend's new appearance. But Dune insisted, and Bismark reluctantly let him go. Bismark stayed by Dune's side, feeling strange as he walked beside the hulking form of Esper Dune. Bismark had been roughly the same height as Dune before, but now Dune towered over Bismark, and only Genju could look into his face without craning his neck.

Bismark and Dune made their way to the ship's deck, hoping to see Narsille's ports and familiar blue towers as they made their way down the Lethe River. The crew had been increasingly on edge the closer they got to Narsille, fearing Leviathan would come crashing out of the waters at any moment, crushing their ship just like the Committee vessel. But neither Sade nor Leviathan had been spotted on their return trip, and Bismark was concerned that they might be too late, or that Dune had been wrong, and the two fiends had fled somewhere else.

Upon reaching Narsillian territory those fears were quickly dispelled, and replaced by whole new fears. No one had expected the storm clouds above Narsille to have vanished in their absence, although they had hoped for the best. They were not prepared for the storm's vicious new energy, though. Before they even reached the port, the wind and rain had began assaulting the Maiden and the clouds were far darker and violent than when they left. There was no mistaking the spiraling storm now - this was the monster from the Thanas and the Mordic in all its black glory.

Genju breathed in sharply when he saw the twisting mass above Narsille. Apparently he knew this foe as well.

"Merkabah!" He hissed.

"What?" Bismark said tensely. "You know something about that damnable storm? It's plagued us before, and I think it's following us."

"I know it." Genju said. "It's called Merkabah, the Chariot of Uranos. It is an ill omen indeed."

"You lost me there, old man." Bismark said bewilderedly.

"Uranos, the Master of Storms," Genju said impatiently. He did not feel like being the teacher at the moment. "That storm, Merkabah, is his wrath embodied. Wherever it appears, death and destruction follow. For it to be here now - ahh!"

Genju faltered, and fell to his knees as if struck.

"What's the matter? What happened?" Bismark said, startled.

Genju gasped for breath, holding his chest tight. "It cannot be...!" he rasped.

"What? Spit it out, old man!"

"The Balance...it has fallen. I felt the Pearl turn, just now. My Lord Altimus forgive me, the Pearl of Order has been lost to chaos!"

Bismark tried to bring the Esper to his senses, but he pushed the man away with one of his surprisingly strong hands.

"No! There is nothing that can be done for it now." Genju said, returning to his feet. "Merkabah appearing, the Pearl turning, the Fallen Masters returning...these are all the signs I have been dreading. We must hurry and do what we can to stay the flood of disorder that is coming! Our only hope now is the Nacre."

Genju raised his four hands out towards the turbulent waters around them and raised his voice. "Elia, hear my voice! Now is the time to aid your poor children!"

Bismark looked out over the waters, half-expecting the real Maiden of the Sea to rise from the waves. But nothing appeared, and after several minutes of silence Bismark heard a strangled sob from Genju. The Esper slumped down once more, utterly defeated.

"Nothing...has even the Mother of Forgiveness deserted us in this dire hour? Have we lost our last ray of hope?"

"Pull yourself together, dammit!" Bismark shouted. He grabbed the old man by his broad shoulders and tried to shake him, but it was like trying to shake a block of steel.

Genju heard Bismark, however, and gathered himself from the ship's deck. Now was not the time to panic, but what could they do without the blessing of Elia?

"I am sorry, Captain," was all Genju could utter.

"Sorry, nothing!" Bismark said savagely. "With or without that necklace, we're returning to Narsille. There are people in that city who need help, and nothing is going to stop us. We've dealt with that storm before, and we've dealt with Sade and Levi before, and we'll do it again. Now, stop blubbering and have some faith in us for change!"

Genju only looked at Bismark with pity. Around them, the rest of the crew had gathered to see what was happening. Dune was on the deck too, and the crew gave him a noticeably wide berth. He didn't seem to mind, and only stared at the storm quietly.

"Bismark is right," Indie said as he approached the two. "We can't give up now. You shouldn't rely on the gods for everything, Genju. Sometimes you just have to trust in yourself and your friends. We'll figure something out."

"Believe in us 'weak' humans, Genju." Alex said, joining the group. "We made this mess, and perhaps the gods think it is our responsibility to fix it."

"Believe in us," Draco said firmly, completing the ring of humans around the ancient Esper. "We'll get the job done, you'll see."

Genju sighed heavily, the weight of a thousand years in exile on his shoulders. Had he left his prison only to meet an even darker world than the one he had left? But...this strange new breed of men would not be deterred, no matter what he said or what horrors confronted them. He felt a faint glimmer of hope flow through him, despite his firm conviction that dark times were ahead. The unwavering faith these humans had was infectious, even if it was foolish. He couldn't help himself, and let out a booming laugh at the world he had been thrust back into.

"We're all fools," he said, turning to face each man. There was no sign of weakness in any of them.

Genju looked from one man to the next as he recovered himself, letting his gaze fall on the silent Dune last. Those eyes...what secrets did they hold?

"Dark times..." he said quietly as the battered ship pulled into what was left of Narsille's now abandoned port.


	67. Dream's End, 'Narsille Under Siege'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.4 - Narsille Under Siege**

The Maiden's homecoming was a lonely one. Even with the storm, there had still been dock workers bustling about when they had left Narsille nearly a month ago. Now, there wasn't a single soul in sight. The increased violence of the great storm had made any attempt at navigating the Lethe River impossible. It was only by a small miracle and the expert steersmanship of the Maiden crew that they had been able to reach the port at all. There would be no evacuating the population from here.

Besides the ravages of the storm, there was one other curious aspect to the scene that greeted the Maiden crew. There were no people, but there were no ships either. It was possible that the city had already evacuated as many people as they could via transport ship, but this seemed unlikely. The massive amount of debris both in the water and on land hinted at a more violent end to the Narsille fleets. After the scene on the shores of Crescent Island, only one thought came to the crew's mind.

"Levi was here already."

Bismark spoke the thoughts everyone on the deck shared.

"Nothing we can do about it now. Let's get a move on. There's still a city in there that needs every hand it can right now." Bismark waved his hand to signal the crew to prepare to disembark.

"What about...Leviathan?" One of the crew members spoke up, obviously terrified.

"What about him!" Bismark snapped back. "We didn't come this far to turn around! If he's out there, he's out there. Let's go!"

Before walking off the ship, Bismark turned to Dune, a sly grin on his face.

"Here Dune, take this."

He handed Dune a familiar weather-beaten wide-brimmed hat and a pair of glasses. Dune looked at them curiously, and took them with a knowing smile.

"Thank you, Bismark. But why are you giving these back to me?"

Bismark shrugged. "Keepsakes, I suppose. That hat has been all over the world, first with your father, then with you. It just seems natural to hold onto it. Besides, if we find Mae, I think seeing you with these things will help." Bismark coughed, not used to displays of sentimentality. "Seeing you still wearing that hat when you came back through that gate was the only way I still knew it was you. Trust me, it helps."

Dune smiled, and tried putting the hat on his head. The curved horns made it difficult, but he managed. The glasses were too small for his head now, so he simply tucked them in a pocket of what was left of the pants he had been wearing. The sight would have been funny, if it wasn't a sobering reminder of how much Dune had changed.

_At least he still has the same grey hair_, Bismark thought, trying to see the old Dune through the monstrous Esper form.

"So, what's the plan now?" Dune asked once everyone had assembled on deck.

"First, we go back to your apartment tower, Dune," Bismark said. "Indie wants to go back there first and make sure that pet moogle of his is safe. We'll tag along and check on your apartment, see if Mae has come back. If the Committee is telling the truth and they don't have her, then that's the best place to start looking for her. Maybe we missed something last time we were there."

"Sounds good to me," Dune said agreeably.

Indie spoke up once he had joined the group. "After I get Kumiro, I'll be heading to the ATLAS main tower and see if I can't do something about this storm. I know it's a long shot, but maybe science still has some sway over this beast. Gotta try, right?"

What about you, Alex?" Bismark asked.

"I'm heading underground. I'll join the rest of my mechanics and try to get the Figaro online as soon as possible. It should only take a few hours to get the entire fleet up and running, and from there we'll see."

"Wait!"

A small figure ran out and grabbed onto Alex's arm. It was Kite.

"I want to go with you, Mr. Figaro, sir!" she said, her face looking up at Alex's with frantic intensity.

Alex couldn't help but give her a fatherly smile. She looked so much like his daughter! But this was no place for a young girl to be. Half of him wanted to take her with him to protect her, but the other knew she was safer here on the ship, away from that horrible city. He knew how much she idolized him, but he couldn't let her put herself into danger.

"Kite...," Alex said as kindly as he could. "I don't think that's such a good idea. Narsille is too dangerous right now."

"But...!"

"Don't worry, Alex." Draco said, coming up next to the old man and young girl. "I'll stay behind make sure Kite is safe. I don't have any specific place to go inside the city."

"For now, so will I," Genju said from behind Draco. "Once the rest of you have determined what the state of Narsille is, I'll join you. Until then, I'll aid Draco in making sure this ship is still here in case we need to escape."

"There now, Kite." Alex said, wresting her grip from him gently. "You stay here with Draco and make sure nothing happens to him, alright?"

Kite looked like she was about to burst into tears, but she reluctantly let go of Alex's arm and walked over to Draco. She knew she couldn't help Alex, but she had wanted to do anything she could to pay him back for saving her life. If this was what he wanted, then she would stay.

"Right, then," Bismark said. "What about you two?" He turned his gaze to Eva Dehr and Adam Cruz standing away from the rest, saying nothing.

"We're leaving now," Cruz said. "We've got to get back to headquarters and try to make sense of this mess."

Dehr was a bit more gracious. "We appreciate your help, despite our...differences. Cruz is right, though. We must return to headquarters and organize relief efforts at once." Dehr smiled. "You may consider your employment with the Committee terminated as of this moment. Good day."

Without a further word, the two walked off the ship and made their way across the port and into the city from the central street.

Bismark smiled as well, appreciating the strength of this woman for perhaps the first time. He didn't like her still, but at least he respected her, just a little.

"Alright, let's go."

Bismark, Dune and Indie went first, turning north towards Dune's apartment. Alex and a handful of crew members he trusted went south towards the closest entrance to the underground network of tunnels beneath the city.

Draco, Genju, and Kite were the only non-crew members left on the Maiden, and could only watch and wait. The rest of the crew bustled about both on and off the ship, making sure it wasn't blown away in the hurricane winds of the storm.

They didn't have to wait long for something to do, however. No sooner had the rest of the group disappeared down their separate paths than a sickening cracking sound echoed outwards from the city streets. A half second later the ground exploded, and the entire crew was thrown to the ground. The rumbling intensified, sending fissures arching across the port and destroying the little that was left of the docks and warehouses.

Draco struggled to stand, trying to grab Kite, but he stopped cold when he saw her. Directly behind her the air was shimmering like a mirage, thickening into a grey fog. Before he could reach her, an emaciated hand draped in filthy rags materialized from the fog and fastened itself around Kite's neck.

Kite shrieked at the icy cold touch, but another grisly hand shot out and covered her mouth. She could taste something like dry ash and rotting flesh that made her want to vomit.

As the fog swirled around the helpless girl, the shape of a human began to take form behind her, its hands still on her neck and mouth. It was completely draped in fading rags, with only the white flesh of its arms visible around Kite. Two pale fires glowed in the depths of the rags wrapped around its head like a hood, but no face could be seen in the blackness. Despite the incessant shaking of the earthquake tossing the boat back and forth, the ghostly being stayed perfectly still, hovering inches above the ship's deck.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded through gritted teeth, still struggling just to stand.

"I am no one," the creature's voice whispered out from the empty face. "My master desires this girl, and he must be obeyed."

"He's an Esper," Genju said quietly from Draco's side. He had taken flight when the tremors started, and was calmly studying the being that had appeared out of thin air before them as he hovered above the deck. "I sense the power of Astarte in him."

"No more talk," the ghost figure rasped. "I will take the girl to Leviathan, and she shall join the army of the Goddess. Do not follow me if you want to live."

Before Genju or Draco could react, the figure twisted itself around Kite like a snake and the two vanished in a twisting blur that left no sign of their presence.

"Dammit!" Draco cursed, slamming the deck with his fist. "What the hell was that?"

"I have seen that man before." Genju said, still thinking about what he had seen, or thought he had seen.

"Who is he? What is he? Was he really an Esper?"

"Yes he was an Esper, although I do not know how. That was the silent man that had accompanied Levi to my hall. He was not an Esper then. The Fallen Masters have perverted the natural order more than I thought possible. They are creating Espers on their own, without the Crystal Forge, it would seem."

"I'm not sure what you're saying, but he's got Kite," Draco said angrily. "What do we do now?"

"He may be able to hide himself from the physical world, but I can still sense his magical trail. I can follow him."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Draco said, already grabbing at Genju's arms to steady himself. The shaking was beginning to subside, but the waves it had created were threatening to capsize the Maiden.

"Very well, but if the Fallen Masters are creating Espers, who knows what may be waiting for us. Are you sure you want to go with me? A human cannot possibly hope to stand against an Esper."

We'll see about that," Draco said with grim determination, checking his blade. If there was any chance he could fight an Esper, he wouldn't hesitate. The rage of the Dragon of the West had been roused, and the warrior part of him was eager to pit his skills against the ultimate opponent. The father-to-be inside him was also filled with rage at seeing the poor defenseless girl, no more than a child, handed over to a monster like Leviathan. He had given his word to protect her and he would save her, or die trying.

Genju took a measuring glance at Draco and smiled, then spoke. "I see you are prepared for death, then. This is good, for that is all I sense from inside that city now. We mustn't waste any more time. Let us be off!"

Genju grabbed Draco by the waist and lifted himself off the tilting ship with a powerful rush of his wings. he shot up faster than any bird, his flight amplified by his magical energies. Before any of the crew could even realize what had happened, Genju was out of sight, shooting towards the towers of Narsille like a hawk diving for its prey.


	68. Dream's End, 'Path of the Damned'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.5 - Path of the Damned**

Cruz was becoming increasingly agitated as he and Dehr trekked through the streets of Narsille. Why were there no automated buses to take them straight back to headquarters? The few manually operated vehicles they had seen were all going in one direction - out of Narsille. Walking on foot through the cold, rain-drenched streets of the city was almost as bad as walking through the jungles of Crescent Island. Worse even. The wind buffeted them from random directions and the roar of the constant thunder made it impossible to hear much else.

And the people! Cruz knew intellectually that the population of his city numbered in the millions, but to actually see and hear those numbers thronging through the corridors of the city was unbelievably oppressive. The only sound that rivaled the roar of the thunder was the steady drone of a hundred thousand terrified voices. Wails, sobs, screams, curses - the sounds of the damned filled the air between thunderclaps.

It was as they had feared when they first left the Maiden and saw the darkening clouds. The people were in full-blown panic, and were trying to flee the city without any order or leadership. The sheer amount of bodies pressed into the streets almost put Cruz into a panic himself. It was true, the mob mentality was infectious, and that disease had spread its roots straight to the heart of Narsille. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and tried to steady his wildly beating heart ashe jostled his way through the mass of people.

Dehr remained calm as always, though. Cruz could only marvel at her ability to suppress that gut feeling to flee that he knew she must surely be feeling as well. But that was why she was the President, and he was merely her aide. He wondered how the rest of the Committee was handling the situation. Were there any people of Dehr's quality among them now? He doubted it, judging from the chaotic flow of people that pressed against them as they moved against the never-ending wave of flesh. There was only one force guiding these people now - _Flee, flee, flee._

"Adam, watch yourself."

Dehr's cool, clipped tones broke through Cruz's wandering thoughts. He looked down at his feet and saw it again. That strange black smoke. It was everywhere, and seemed to cling to anyone who wandered too close to any opening to the underground facilities of the city. Cruz had just stepped near one of the grates in the road, and the smoke had wrapped a misty tendril affectionately around his heel. He kicked it off and increased his pace to keep up with Dehr. What was going on beneath the city? Had one of the generators malfunctioned? This smoke seemed oddly familiar to Cruz, though. It was not something he had ever seen in his tours of the underground, though, that he was sure of.

"We must hurry Adam, please try to keep up with me."

Cruz grumbled, but sped up to a near trot to stay behind Dehr. They had made it far enough through the city to see the headquarters squat, domed form separate itself from the forest of towers around them. The throng of people had thinned out the closer they got to the center of the city, and they had the main roads almost to themselves now. Only a little further, and they would see what was left of Narsille's command structure.

Almost as soon as they had caught sight of the headquarters, their vision of hope was shattered. A massive explosion rocked the inside of the dome, and the two watched in slow-motion as the ground itself rose outwards from the building like ripples in a pond. The first wave of earth struck them bodily and threw them both to the ground. The earth was shaking violently, cracks shooting out from around the headquarters foundation in all directions. With each crack a mighty snapping sound boomed from below, and a red glow could be seen from deep inside the split ground.

There was nothing either of them could do. Cruz and Dehr looked on in awe as the massive fissures grew wider with each tremor, showing more of that fiery red light as they grew. A horrible sound of grinding metal and breaking glass met their ears and they watched as the massive structure of the headquarters lurched sickeningly to one side, tilting a dozen feet or more downwards.

"My god! It's going to fall!" Cruz cried out without thinking, struggling against the shaking ground to keep his eyes on the building.

Dehr kept her gaze firm as she watched the building teeter, her face a grim mask of forced control. "This is _his_ doing," was all she said.

Cruz was about to ask what she meant, but was cut short by another explosion from inside the building. Flames shot out from the broken windows and smoke seeped out from cracks in the great domed roof. It only took a moment. The cracks spread across the dome like an egg, and in one magnificently blue cloud of mythril dust, the roof collapsed in on itself.

The chain reaction was immediate and catastrophic. The collapsing dome fed the destruction of the floors below it, and as the building imploded one stage at a time, the force of the roof's fall tipped the precarious balance that had kept the building standing above the ground's cracked surface. Before the building could destroy itself under its own weight, what was left of it plunged out of sight into the chasm the quake had created. A gust of hot air expanded outwards from the falling building and slammed into the onlookers. The final screams of the poor souls still trapped inside could be heard faintly, carried to Cruz's and Dehr's ears by the hellish winds.

When the earthquake finally subsided, there was nothing left but the frayed edges of concrete roads dangling over the rim of the massive crater the building had left behind. The infernal glow that had seeped from the cracks was now a burning blaze of light inside the chasm. Cruz and Dehr did not need to move any closer to see what was inside that gaping hole. The rush of heat told them all they needed to know. They had seen something exactly like this before. Where their headquarters had been a moment before was now a huge bubbling cauldron of magma, a miniature version of the wound Sade had inflicted on Crescent Island.

"We've got to get out of here. _Now._" Dehr said in a cold tone that cut through the heated air like a knife.

"W-what? Where? There's nowhere to go!" Cruz blubbered, his defenses finally breaking down. All gone. It was all gone. Their headquarters, and most likely whoever was brave enough to stay behind to try and guide the city, swallowed by Sade's insanity in one fiery gulp.

This was too much for Cruz to take. Eyes wide and mouth hanging stupidly agape, he stumbled backwards away from Dehr. He tumbled onto his back, tripping over something on the ground.

"_Adam! Look out!_" Dehr shouted, her icy exterior breaking for one brief moment as she saw what was about to happen.

Cruz had not tripped. He had stepped blindly into that inky black smoke, and what was only a foreboding caress before was now a fierce grip. One tendril wrapped around his leg and yanked him down to the ground. As he struggled to extricate himself, several more wisps of smoke grabbed his limbs, holding him in place. He utter a high-pitched shriek that sputtered into a choking cough as the smoke flowed over him like a death shroud.

"Eva, help me!" Cruz managed to spit out as the black shroud covered his face.

Dehr tried to reach for Cruz to pull him out of the thickening cloud, but a coldly familiar voice froze her like a statue.

"Eva, join me."

Dehr turn her head to try and find the source of the voice, but there was no one. Only the increasing cloud of smoke that now thickly covered the entire area around the newly formed crater.

"Sade! Show yourself!" She shouted, fear creeping into her voice now.

"I am here, Eva. Join me. Join _us_."

"Never! I'm done following you! Look what your plans have brought to my city! Our city!" Dehr tried to sound defiant, but the fear in her voice was obvious. She could feel that same seductive force filling her just like before, just like inside Crescent Mountain. This time, though there was no one to protect them from Sade's power.

"Adam no longer fights me. See?"

Dehr looked back down at her fallen companion, and to her horror she only saw a black cocoon of smoke completely hiding Cruz's form. Was he dead?

As if reading her thoughts, the voice of Sade answered. "He is still alive. He will join us, becoming so much more than the sniveling dog that he was. This was all he ever wanted, after all. To have power, to be respected. Is this not what you desire as well, Eva?

"I don't want your kind of power, Sade! You only want to destroy!" Dehr's words were defiant, but she could feel Sade's influence steadily pulling her down, down, down.

"I want what my Master wants. The Vengeful Poltergeist's wrath is _my _wrath. My revenge! This unworthy world will be burnt to cinders, then rebuilt by my hand. You could be a part of that, Eva. I know this is what you want. Do not deny your heart's desire. _Join us!_"

The last words were a fierce command that made Dehr shudder as if struck. She uttered a weak groan, knowing Sade's lies were nothing but truth. She wanted power and control. To guide the feeble masses into a glorious future where she held the reigns...that was her heart's desire. But so much destruction! Was that the inevitable price to be paid for her world vision? She only had to utter one word and her fate was sealed, the pact made.

"Yes."

Her voice was hollow as she gave in to Sade's overwhelming pressure. The effect was immediate. The sea of smoke swirled around her consenting body, wrapping itself around her just as it had Cruz. It didn't feel as bad as she thought it would. She felt..._powerful._ She closed her eyes with a look of rapt pleasure on her face as the blackness took her.

A moment later, the streets around the former site of the Committee headquarters were empty, not a soul to be seen. Only a thick film of black smoke over a boiling pit of magma remained. The Committee for the Preservation of Peace was no more.

A slow laughter echoed across the desolate wreckage of the city's center, but there was no one left alive to hear it. The heart of Narsille had been corrupted and devoured at last. It was only a matter of time before the rot would spread itself outwards, gripping the city of dreams in its never-ending nightmare of death and destruction.

And then, the world.


	69. Dream's End, 'Underworld'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.6 - Underworld**

Alex knew things were not going well the moment he stepped below the streets of Narsille. His short, wet walk outside had been nightmarish enough, but to see the normally smooth operation of the city's underground world tossed to the storm weighed heavily on the old man's heart. Would things have been any better had he been here to guide his workers?

Alex looked from face to face as he pushed his way past the mass of people struggling to escape through the underground. He saw his own workers mixed in with the wild-eyed citizens every once in a while, all hope of controlling the flow forgotten. Alex knew what was drawing so many people to seek this particular method of escape. The long corridors of steel and stone were the one place in the city the storm could not reach.

There was a curious amount of smoke drifting upwards from further inside the city'sunderground, and whenever Alex tried to ask one of his over-worked engineers what it was or where it was coming from, he invariably got the same terse reply:

"Stay away from it, sir."

He would have to get to the bottom of that smoke. If one of the generators was malfunctioning, it could be disastrous for a city already on the brink. Alex suspected that in the chaos, some of his less-reliable engineers had left their posts manning the massive geothermal generators, and something had gone wrong. He was glad to see many of his more seasoned workers still trying their best to do their jobs, but he knew there would be plenty of younger ones who had dropped their tools and joined the mob at the first chance. With the hardening knot of fear he felt in his gut as he got closer to the heart of the city, he could hardly blame them.

It was times like these Alex felt blessed that his family did not live in Narsille. His wife, son, and daughter lived far away in the city of Doma. He wished he could be with them, but Narsille needed him more right now. This city had been his second home for many long years, and was almost like a son to him. To see it in such a state filled him with grief. His child was dying, and he knew there was little he could do to save it.

Alex had been the pioneering mind behind the construction of the great generators that powered the city, and he knew the explosive growth of the city over the last thirty years was because of that amazing source of power he had managed to harness. Deep below even the underground maze of metal and stone there dwelled an immense region of heat, a pocket of magma according to their measurements. Water from the Lethe River flowing over that never-ending heat source churned and boiled as it passed its way out of the mountains, creating a limitless supply of geothermal and hydroelectric energy.

This beating heart of fire and water is where Alex was headed now. Keeping the electricity flowing into the city was of utmost importance, since a loss of power would turn this disorganized mob into a crazed army of desperate animals. If that happened, there would be no stopping the downward spiral, and many lives would be unnecessarily lost. He had to save as many people as he could. The generators first, then the docking bay.

The few workers he had talked to along the way said they were already doing their best to get people boarded onto the Figaro and the other massive vehicles stored in the huge docking bay below Narsille. From what he could tell, the Committee had done almost nothing in the face of this disaster, and it was his engineers who had decided on their own to open the great mythril gates and start preparing for evacuation. It was comforting to know his workers could function without him, but he wanted to be there to help all the same. Narsille needed a leader now, and it seemed he was the only one still willing to fulfill that role.

Halfway to the generators, Alex felt a deep rumbling beneath his feet. An earthquake? He broke into a run, knowing any tectonic activity here was an ill omen. He had always known that pocket of magma beneath the city might be a ticking time bomb, but all studies had shown it to be completely stable for hundreds of thousands of years. Why now?

The rumbling stopped abruptly, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he had overreacted. These were stressful times, after all. He kept up his brisk run anyways, that feeling of dread building in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong down here.

As he was making his way towards the generators, he saw several Order priests in their distinctive black robes running among the rest of the fleeing population. He didn't pay them much attention, knowing full well their sanctuary was down among the underground structures as well. When he saw two Order priests carrying a screaming man away, though, that caught his attention. There was something terribly familiar about the look on the screaming man's face.

"What's the matter with him? Can I help?" Alex asked as he stopped to catch his breath.

The two priests stopped, holding the madman between them. There was a look only slightly less crazed in their eyes as they studied Alex.

"Get out of here while you still can, you fool!" The man on the left almost screamed.

"There's a monster inside the Order, it's killing everyone!" The other man said in equally hysterical tones.

"What?" Alex tried to ask, but the half-unconscious man in the middle suddenly looked at him, and howled.

"Black! All black!" he cackled, half sobbing, half laughing.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Alex demanded with more force than he intended. The insanity of the three men was starting to get to him.

"The same thing that will happen to you if you keep going that way," the man on the left said with as much calmness as he could muster. "We're leaving this hellhole. C'mon!" He tugged at the crazy man and started to move forward again.

"Stay away from the smoke." The other man said as the three moved away from Alex as quickly as they could.

"Black! The Pearl is black! Ha, ha, ha!" The crazy man's laugh spluttered into a deep sob as his voice faded away from Alex.

_The pearl is black? Genju had said the Pearl of Order would turn black if balance was lost. Had they seen the pearl?_Alex's thoughts raced as he hurried towards the generators. Something was definitely wrong down here.

He had only moved a short distance from where he had encountered the three men when the rumbling returned. This time it was no deep vibration, but a full-blown earthquake. The ground jerked savagely, throwing Alex to the ground. Dust and rocks fell around him, blinding him. The ground was shaking wildly, twisting the corridor into almost impossible shapes. Alex knew he had to get up and get into an open area or he'd be crushed. How much farther to the generator rooms?

Fighting back the vertigo that was trying to overtake him in the writhing tunnel, Alex stumbled to his feet and forced himself forward. There was a strong light close to him, but he couldn't make anything out in the haze of debris. He half walked, half crawled towards the light, coughing on the dust. Or was it smoke? It was impossible to tell in the dark tunnel. Alex remembered the warning he had heard repeatedly as he descended:

_Stay away from the smoke._

No time to worry about it now. Alex tried as best he could not to breath in too much of the unknown air, but he was tired and sore and needed to keep moving. As he gulped down the air, he tasted something foul that made him choke instantly. It wasn't the ashen taste of normal smoke, or the earthy taste of dirt. This was something else, something rotten.

As a geologist, he had been to several volcanoes throughout the world, and this rotten taste was familiar to him. It was sulfur dioxide, a poisonous gas found in volcanic eruptions. If there was sulfur in this smoke, then that could mean only one thing - the magma pocket had been breached, and he was in deadly danger.

Alex wavered in the shaking tunnel, wondering if he should keep going. This disaster was quickly escalating beyond him, and it might be best to just flee like the others. What could he do in the face of a volcanic eruption?

He could save lives.

There might still be people down here, and he knew he had to try and see while there was time. So he kept struggling forward towards the light.

Another massive shock reverberated through the tunnel, and Alex watched in dismay as the long line of electric lights on the walls flickered, then went out in a quick succession down the tunnel away from him.

So it had happened. The generators had failed. Perhaps not all of them, though. That light at the end of the tunnel was glowing, more brightly than ever. Alex tried to quicken his pace through the deteriorating underground, but larger and larger chunks of rock and metal were hampering his progress as the earthquake increased in fury. The smoke was thickening as well, threatening to suffocate him.

With a gasp Alex tumbled into the great room where the light was coming from. He glanced up at the wall and saw a large number 18 painted in red. As he had thought, this was one of the main generator rooms, somewhere near the middle of the city from the number. But what he saw through the haze of dust, smoke, and ash was a vision of pure hell.

The light was not coming from his generators. Now that he could see more clearly, the light was plainly red, and coming from a massive outbreak of fires around the rows of giant generators. There was no one trying to put out the fires. Alex couldn't seen anyone in the area, but he knew there were still people down here somewhere. He could hear their distant screams echoing off the high walls of the cavern, but he couldn't see any way to reach their source.

The river that flowed between the rows of burning generators was boiling away and filling the room with mist as well as smoke. Alex stood near the river, a towering generator rising on either side of the doorway he had just come through. His eyes followed the powerful river along its course, and saw it fall away in the great waterfall he had seen many times. Now, though, there was something sinister happening just beyond the lip of the waterfall.

Another blazing red glow was pouring from the depths, deeper and hotter than the fires above. A loud hissing of evaporating water accompanied the rumbling of the earthquake and the screams of the dying. Alex knew what must be happening below. The magma that had been safely contained for millennia had broken free of its shell of rock and was flowing freely over everything below. The destruction and carnage that must be happening just out of his sight below would be beyond words. If this quake didn't stop soon, the entire city might be consumed in the violent reawakening of this sleeping monster.

Realizing he was now far too late to save whoever was unfortunate enough to be below, and perhaps too late to even save himself, Alex turned to try and find a side corridor that he knew would lead him to the main hub, the quickest route to the surface. He hoped he would find someone along the way that he could save, but the chances were decreasing with every passing moment. Even now, the screams were fading into the background roar of water, fire, and earth. Explosions replaced screams as the overworked and abandoned generators blew one by one. Alex could feel his chest tighten in grief as he thought of his dying city he was helpless to save.

"Help me!"

About to leave the room, Alex whipped around to the direction of the voice he had heard. There was someone still alive here! He rushed to where he had heard the voice, hoping they could be saved.

"Please! Someone!"

The voice was coming from one of the burning generators closest to the ground beside the waterfall's edge. Alex braved the fiery wreckage and pushed aside rocks and chunks of machinery until he reached the source of the voice. As he approached the edge of the cascading water, he allowed himself to peer down into the blazing mouth of the abyss beyond. He pulled back quickly, seeing more than he could stand. There was nothing but a glowing river of lava covering everything at the base of the waterfall. Large pieces of the cavern below fell into the burning sea and melted instantly. Rigging that had been set up along the waterfall was falling into the lave piece by piece as the heat and tremors tore it down.

And the infernal river was rising. Soon it would reach the top, and then the true destruction of Narsille's underground world would begin. Alex knew he had very little time to rescue whoever was here and get to the surface.

"Is someone there? Help me, I'm trapped!" the voice said, weaker than before, but closer. Alex heard a raspy cough as the voice choked on the acrid smoke filling the room.

Heaving the last bit debris aside, Alex squinted through the dust to try and see where the trapped person was. He heard another cough, weaker than the one before, and finally saw his target. A sooty hand poked out from a pile of twisted pipes and rock. Beyond the hand was a body, mostly buried, but partially visible. The person's head was free, but the eyes were closed, and the breathing shallow.

"I'm here! Hold on!" Alex said desperately, not wanting to lose this last surviving remnant of his people. He began to rip the broken pipes away from the person's body, heaving the boulders aside in a rush of adrenaline. It was brutal work, but Alex was extremely fit for his age, and with one mighty effort he freed the person from their cage of metal and rock.

It was not what Alex had expected. This was not one of his workers at all. It was another Order priest! And he was old, probably older than Alex from the look of him. He had a long white beard and heavily wrinkled features that showed a life filled with stress and hard work. Alex had a flash of memory and the face of the Order's High Elder he had met so long ago filled his vision. This man was as old as the High Elder was back then and looked just like him. But the High Elder was surely deceased by now. Was this the new High Elder? Alex had no idea, having left the Order to their own devices after the tragedy of Phoenix Isle.

As he looked at the old man, Alex saw that he had something wrapped in an ornate blue cloth cradled under the arm that had been buried. From his position it looked like he had put himself at great risk trying to protect whatever was in that bundle of cloth. The cloth looked vaguely familiar to Alex, and he felt the same sense of deja vu that had struck him when he saw the face of the mad priest earlier. They were connected, but how? Alex didn't have time to try and remember.

"You...saved me..." The old man struggled between harsh rattling gasps. There were flecks of blood around his mouth, and a growing dark spot on his chest that Alex didn't like the look of. He had burns all over his body, and his white robes were stained almost black with ash and soot. Could he have somehow escaped from below?

"Can you stand? We need to get out of here!" Alex said, clearing away more rubble and trying to revive the man enough to stand.

The man pushed Alex's hands away from his body in a feeble gesture.

"No...I must stay here. My Order has fallen, and I shall fall with it." The words cost the man an enormous amount of energy, and he fell back almost unconscious.

"Don't be a fool! Get up, before the lave reaches us!" Alex tried to lift the man onto his shoulders, but he resisted, still clutching the bundle of cloth.

The old man's eyes flickered open, and he looked hard at Alex's face next his. He smiled, showing teeth stained red with blood.

"I know you...Alex Figaro."

"What?" Alex almost dropped the man upon hearing his name called by this stranger.

"You don't remember me, but I was there, thirty years ago." the old man coughed, bringing fresh blood up. He continued despite the obvious pain, determined to speak.

"I was...one of the priests who went with...poor Jehad. We abandoned him there...and our Order has suffered much...because of our poor decision...since then." He stopped, struggling to keep himself conscious.

"Enough talk! Let's go. Now!" Alex tried to move the priest, but he wouldn't budge.

"I'm dying. Let me say my piece." The man said in a whisper, but with a note of command. Alex knew time was short, but he felt hypnotized by this unexpected visitor from his past.

"Sade...has destroyed us."

"Sade!" Alex burst out in anger. "What has that demon done now?"

The old man tried to laugh, but couldn't. "Nothing we didn't bring upon ourselves. But now it is...too late to save our Order. I tried to keep the old traditions alive...but the High Elder was right all along."

"What are you saying? Please, we have to leave." Alex said, almost begging the man to try and save himself.

"You." The dying man pointed one gnarled finger at Alex, his eyes glittering with tears. "Altimus...has guided you to me in my final moments...and my duty is...clear..."

"Wait!" Alex almost shouted as the old man's eyes closed again. His chest heaved less with each breath, and the ugly dark spot under his robes was no longer growing. Alex could see the man was almost dead. What was keeping him here? Why didn't he leave this man and run? Alex felt trapped by some invisible force, every muscle in his body telling him this was where he was supposed to be.

"Take these..." His voice hummed from almost motionless lips. "Keep...the Order...alive...in your heart...don't let...the world forget...us..."

The man's head fell to the side, and he was gone. The bundle he had been gripping tightly until the moment of his death fell softly to the ground and rolled to Alex's feet. Alex let the old man's body down gently and bent to pick up the strange treasure of the last faithful member of the Order of the Pearl.

As soon as his fingers pulled the cloth aside, he knew what it was the old man had risked his life to protect. An electric jolt of energy shot through his arm, and a half-forgotten memory burst into his mind's eye, overlapping the exposed bundle at his fingertips. This was the Pearl of Order, now black, and under it the scroll that contained the Crystalline Prophecy. The blue cloth was the very cloth the Pearl had rested on at the heart of the Order's sanctuary hall.

"What is this..." Alex said to himself in a daze.

Another explosion nearby shocked him back to his senses and he quickly looked around. There was no one else to save, no more sounds of life here. He had to escape now, or the sea of fire below would consume him. He willed his legs to move, the Pearl and the scroll wrapped safely in the cloth under his arm. He remembered that look on the crazed priest now. He had worn that same look when he had held the scroll on board the Maiden, thirty years ago. To touch the holy words of God was to invite madness. Even through the cloth, Alex could still feel a dangerous flow of energy. What had the old priest given him?

No time to think, he would have to sort things out later. The earthquake was over, but the lava was still rising, and he had to get out of this crumbling cavern. He blindly groped towards the direction he knew the exit into the main hub must be. The smoke around him had increased, blotting out almost all the blazing light. He would collapse from the smoke soon if he didn't find fresh air.

He could taste ash, dirt, and the rotten sulfur taste, but there was something else in this smoke that wasn't there before. It almost felt like a swarm of insects, buzzing inside his mouth and lungs.

_Stay away from the smoke._

The warning echoed in his head, but there was nothing he could do. He had to get out of here. He plunged forward through the thick black cloud, trying to hold his breath as long as he could. The tingling feeling inside him only increased, as if it were trying to get out.

He felt a surge of urgency pulse from the bundle in his arms. What was that feeling? It felt like...fear? From the Pearl? _Just what had the priest given him?_

He could feel the Pearl's fear coursing through him, and soon he felt real fear himself. The buzzing inside him was becoming almost unbearable, and he couldn't hold his breath much longer. He stumbled a few more paces towards the exit, but fell to one knee, unable to move any further. He tried to crawl, but he was utterly exhausted. He stretched one desperate hand forward, then fell to the ground. He convulsively opened his mouth as he lay on the stone floor, trying to let in as much air as he could while trying to free himself from the repulsive buzzing inside.

It was no use. The more filthy air he took in, the harder it was the breath, and the worse the buzzing became. His mind began to cloud over, and with his last moment of consciousness he covered the Pearl of Order with his body, unaware that it was the exact same protective position as the old priest.

Several minutes later the massive flow of lava reached the top of the waterfall, and poured over the hulking masses of generators. Explosions rocked the cavern, collapsing the entire area into the growing river of fire. Molten metal bobbed over the surface of the ever-growing sea of lava as the last of Generator Room 18 disappeared into the flames.

A few moments before, while Alex had been trying to save the old man, Generator Room 16 had suffered a similar fate, and its destruction had created a devastating cave-in that had brought the very streets of Narsille crashing down into the molten pit. A gaping hole, exposed to the storm raging above was all that was left of the area. The imploded dome of the Committee headquarters flashed for a moment in this newly formed lake of fire, and then was gone.

When the fire came to Room 18, Alex was no longer lying on the floor. He had vanished, along with his precious cargo, into the smoke.

"He will make an excellent addition to the Flames of Dis," a disembodied hiss echoed above the flames, pleased. It was not one voice, but three.


	70. Dream's End, 'Silent Streets'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.7 - Silent Streets**

The trek through the streets of Narsille was a quiet one for Dune, Bismark, and Indie. Dune remained oppressively silent, and the two old men did not want to disturb him. They both felt It was best to leave the man to his thoughts right now.

They knew it was only a small chance that Mae would somehow turn up at Dune's apartment since the last time they were there, nearly a month ago. They believed the Committee members when they said Mae wasn't their prisoner, but that hardly narrowed down the possibilities. Narsille was a large city, and it was in a state of confusion that no one in this generation had ever experienced. For all they knew, Mae had been one of the panic-stricken people running in the opposite direction.

Dune's presence did not help the turmoil in the streets, either. Seeing a huge beast-like giant walking the streets while the nightmarish storm raged above was a combination that few citizens could handle. Most people fled at the sight of the new Dune, some threw rocks from a distance. One person even tried to fire a gun at him. The reactions didn't seem to faze Dune at all, and the man with the gun dropped the weapon and ran when the bullet did no more damage to Dune's rock-hard skin than the tossed stones.

Apparently there had been strange sightings of other monsters roaming Narsille, as well, and from the descriptions Bismark and Indie had gathered from the frightened populace, they knew who it must be.

"It looks like Levi beat us here after all," Bismark said unhappily.

"Not surprising, considering how fast the Maiden crew said he tore off from Crescent Island." Indie replied just as glumly. "I wonder what he's planning now?"

"He will seek an army, and then try to claim Narsille for his Goddess," Dune said abruptly, looking straight ahead.

"Why Narsille?" Indie asked, disturbed by Dune's calm reply.

Dune remained silent for a moment, then turned to look at Indie with a jagged smile, his best attempt at a comforting glance. "The fallen Masters seem to think this place a special confluence of energy lines. Doom, the Master of Ice, for example, considered the icy peaks of the Narsillian mountain range combined with the frigid northern climate the prime location for the center of his new empire. I am sure the other fallen masters have similar reasons for coming here."

Bismark and Indie were always unsettled by the strange knowledge Dune would sometimes reveal about his former demon, Doom. They said nothing about this to Dune, afraid of what he might say. They knew nothing of his battle with the will of Doom beyond the Ultima Gate, and were glad to keep it that way. From what Genju had told them, it was not an experience an Esper would want to discuss.

"At least we haven't seen any sign of that monster Sade," Bismark said, trying to find something more positive to talk about.

"He is here," was all Dune said.

Bismark and Indie said nothing. Dune's odd manner was starting to get to them. The sooner they got him to his apartment, the better.

_Dammit, Dune, what's the matter with you?_ Bismark thought to himself._ I hope we find Mae soon. I bet she could bring Dune out of this strange mood he's been in. Poor Dune, he doesn't deserve this._

After making their way a few miles into the city, Dune suddenly stopped and tensed as if for a fight.

"Sade is near."

Bismark opened his mouth to speak, but the ground twisted under him, knocking him over. Several more tremors rolled through the city streets like waves, throwing all but Dune to the ground. A few seconds later, the streetlights blinked out, and all of Narsille went dark. The only light in the city was the constant flashing of lightning and the ominous red glow pouring out from the cracks caused by the quake.

"What's happening?" Bismark shouted over the roar of the quake.

"The Master of Fire is making his move." Dune said as calm as ever, keeping his balance despite the shaking earth. He turned his shaggy head and peered into the darkness, looking for something only his cold eyes could see.

"The smoke," Dune said cryptically.

Before Bismark or Indie could respond, Dune glowed with his intense blue aura, illuminating the surrounding area. Dune was right, there was a think cloud of smoke gathering around them. It curled and licked at the edges of Dune's aura, but did not enter.

"What is this...?" Indie said almost in a whisper. When he looked at that smoke, he had the distinct feeling of hungry wolves prowling at a fire's edge.

"Sade is building his army as well..." Dune said thoughtfully. "Do not let the smoke touch you, unless you want to join the legions of the Vengeful Poltergeist."

"Fat chance of that!" Bismark said, trying to keep his spirits up. Things were quickly getting out of control. But he trusted Dune, even with his strange behavior. Dune was the only thing keeping them out of Sade's hands right now.

"Let's hurry," Indie said with as much strength as he could, getting to his feet with some effort. "It looks like the earthquake is over, and we're almost to our apartment."

Dune said nothing, but he moved forward, Bismark and Indie keeping inside his cold dome of protection.

Now that the shaking had stopped, Bismark could hear something else in the air. It was the sound of screams, echoing out from the darkness around them. Thousands and thousands of forsaken Narsillians were now struggling to make it out of their crumbling city. Bismark shuddered, realizing that many of them would not survive, despite any efforts they could make to help the city. Things had gone past the tipping point for Narsille and only a miracle would save it. The damnable gods were in control of the city's fate now.

"Damn you, Levi. You'll pay for this..." Bismark cursed under his breath.

"Look!" Indie shouted, pointing directly ahead of them.

Dune's and Indie's apartment loomed into view, indistinguishable from the many other mythril towers to a stranger. Indie knew his home at a glance, though, and smiled with relief at the welcome sight.

The three wasted no time making their way across the broken streets to the apartment building. It did not seem damaged, thanks to the sturdy mythril frame. There were no lights in the building, but they knew it was not abandoned. Many people were fleeing the city, but there would be just as many who would choose to stay inside where it was safe, hoping to wait out whatever was befalling their city. Was Mae one of those people?

Indie was the first one inside the building, rushing past the others into the dark ground floor lobby. There was a good chance Mae would not be here, but Indie's moogle companion Kumiro definitely would be, waiting for his master to return.

Indie had been worrying about his small friend ever since he left for Crescent Island. He had thought it would be safer here in the city, so he had left him behind. Now Indie wondered if he had made the right choice.

As soon as Indie had opened the door to his room behind his shop, a ball of white fur shot out and clung to Indie's chest like a frightened child.

"Kupo!" the moogle squeaked, shaking from the tip of his pom-pom to his clawed toes.

Indie seemed to know exactly what that short greeting meant and soothed his child-like friend. He spoke in human words, but the moogle understood him perfectly, and soon stopped shaking.

The moogle let go of Indie after a moment and looked at his two companions. Bismark was a trusted sight and Kumiro didn't concern himself with the familiar face. But Dune's monstrous visage sent the moogle into another fit of hysterics, and this time Indie could not calm him down.

"Puu! Puu! PUU!" The moogle almost screeched, flying in agitated circles around Indie.

Indie had expected a negative reaction to Dune's altered appearance, but this was even worse than he had feared. The only time he had seen Kumiro this frightened was when he had ventured too close to the strange statue in the windy valley on Phoenix Isle.

"Kumiro! This is Dune! You remember Dune? He's our friend." Indie tried to reassureh is friend, but his words had no effect. He knew the moogle understood him. After thirty years in the human world, Indie was confident the moogle understood human speech just as well as any human. So why was he being so stubborn?

"PUU!" The moogle shouted loudly, pointing one clawed finger at Dune. Dune, as usual, didn't seem to mind being the object of fear, and simply waiting patiently near the entrance to the building.

The moogle scrunched up his face in a look of extreme effort and contorted his mouth in a series of silent motions, then did something Indie had never expected, and had never seen in all his time studying the odd creature.

"PUUUUU...Baaaaaaad! Nnnnooooot...Duuunnne...kupo!"

It sounded alien coming from the tiny mouth of the moogle, but there was no doubt - the creature was speaking human words, apparently with great effort.

Indie was speechless. He stood looking at Kumiro with his eyes wide and jaw hanging open for several seconds before he recovered his senses. He had always hoped he could eventually get Kumiro to actually speak, but he had almost given up on the idea, assuming it just wasn't physically capable of it. He was elated at this turn of events, but at the same time frightened at the words the moogle had said.

Bismark, too, was taken aback. He only half-believed Indie when the old man claimed his pet was as smart as any human and understood human speech. There was no denying it now. Bismark looked back and forth between the moogle and Dune, wondering what Dune would say.

But Dune said nothing, and only smiled. Did he think it was just a cute trick?

The moogle did not speak human words again, but continued to chirp in the stream of unintelligible sounds it normally used.

"I...I don't know what's wrong with him," Indie said once he got his voice back. "I must admit this is the first time he's ever actually spoken in our language. I am sorry, Dune, don't pay him any mind, he's just frightened at your new appearance."

"I understand," Dune said peaceably. "It takes more than some reassuring words to trust a face like this." He laughed, but the laugh did not sound pleasant to Bismark or Indie.

The moogle continued to fuss about Indie, refusing to calm down or go anywhere near Dune. Indie eventually grabbed his companion gently around the scruff of his neck and held him still.

"I am sorry, but Kumiro isn't behaving very well is he?" Indie said apologetically. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer, and I don't think Kumiro will follow you two upstairs. I'm sure you're eager to see if Mae is still here, Dune, so I'll let you two go."

"What are you planning?" Bismark asked. He did not like the idea of Indie going back outside without them.

"I have to get to the main ATLAS tower. I'm responsible for the weather in Narsille, and I think we can all agree I haven't been doing my job very well recently, have I?" Indie laughed half-heartedly, trying to sound more jovial than he felt. Kumiro's words were bothering him. "If I can make it to the tower and take a look at it, I might be able to do something about this storm."

"But you know as well as any of us that our machines are useless against this storm!" Bismark said crossly. He did not like talking about this magic mumbo-jumbo if he could help it. Indie and Alex freely reveled in its mysteries, but Bismark didn't like things that he could not explain, and it was still difficult for him to admit openly to such whimsical ideas as "gods" and "magic".

Indie smiled knowingly and said in a secretive tone, "Ahh, well...let's just say my main ATLAS system isn't quite as ordinary as I may have let on." He patted his moogle friend on the head while he held him in place. "I think there may be something we can do, but I need to get there first."

"Whatever you say, Indie," Bismark replied. He didn't want to know what Indie was talking about. Right now they needed to keep moving forward. "Just be careful, and stay away from that smoke."

"Right-o," Indie said almost cheerfully. "Don't worry, I've got my bodyguard with me," he winked at Kumiro, who was still fussing in Indie's arm. "You two be careful, too. It should take me about an hour to get to the ATLAS tower. Give me two hours and we'll meet back up again at the Maiden, alright?"

"Fine. I don't know if there's anything we can do right now for this city anyways." Bismark sighed. "Once we're done here, we need to regroup back at the Maiden and find out where Levi and Sade are at, then strike before they build these armies of theirs, or whatever."

"Good idea," Dune said amicably.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Indie said, slapping his forehead. He ran back into his room and came back out with a weather-beaten wooden staff and a flashlight. "I've got some climbing to do if I want to reach the ATLAS tower. I'm getting too old to climb any more mountains." He laughed his old hearty laugh and gripped the staff with one hand. "At least the ATLAS complex isn't as tall as that one on Crescent Island, but it's not nearly as easy to traverse. Kinda funny, eh? Those ancient People of the Moon made a better path than even we could've."

Indie stopped laughing and turned serious, looking at his two friends.

"Be careful Mobius, Dune," Indie said. "Two hours, remember."

"Right." Bismark nodded.

Indie saluted them with his staff and walked back out into the rain, his flashlight waving in the darkness. Kumiro followed him, giving one last distrustful look at Dune as he left. Whatever he had on his mind about the situation, the moogle would follow his master wherever he went.

"Well, Dune, I'm sure you're anxious to get home. Let's go." Bismark said after Indie had disappeared into the darkness outside.

Dune remained motionless, looking out at the storm through the glass doors.

"Dune?"

Silence.

"Dune! Snap out of it!" Now Bismark was afraid.

Without turning around, Dune spoke into the storm. "That is not my name."

"What? What's the matter with you?" Bismark went to grab his friend and turn him away from the chaos outside, but a cold voice stopped him just as he was about to put his hand on Dune's shoulder.

"Dune is gone, captain. There is only Maduin, the Herald of Doom."

Bismark stepped back, realizing too late the truth in the moogle's unexpected outburst. This was not Dune, not Dune at all...

"Don't try to run. Leviathan and Sade and building their armies, and so must I." The creature that was not Dune turned around, looking at Bismark with hate-filled eyes of total blue.

"I've wasted too much time with this charade, and now that we're alone, I will claim my prize." The Esper known as Maduin reached out for Bismark with blinding speed, gripping him with claws that dug into the old man's shoulder.

"Dune! Stop it!" Bismark shouted, wincing in pain as the claws dug deeper. "It's me, Captain Bismark! Mobius!"

"You fool! Dune is gone. Destroyed by his own weakness in the fires of the Forge. Soon you will join him."

"No, I refuse to believe you!" Bismark was in agony, but he managed to smile a grim smile and spit into the Esper's face. "Dune would never give up. He fought you all this time, and he wouldn't lose now."

The Esper ignored Bismark's struggling. "Foolish human. It's time you put your childish dreams aside and woke up to reality. Now! Join your friend in oblivion!"

Maduin took his other hand and swung it at Bismark as lightly as if he were swatting a fly. Bismark crumpled as if hit by a truck, falling unconscious instantly. Blood poured from his wounded shoulder and from his head.

"A spirit as willful as yours will make a fine Esper, Mobius Bismark. I will savor breaking you."


	71. Dream's End, 'The Master of the Skies'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.8 - The Master of the Skies**

"That was some trick you pulled back there," Indie said to his moogle companion as they walked through the darkened streets of Narsille.

"Kupo!" was all Kumiro said in response.

Indie only chuckled at his friend's capricious nature and continued walking. The secret was out now. Kumiro could talk in human words if he really wanted to. Something about Dune had spooked the moogle to the point he felt he had to communicate with words, and not his usual moogle sounds. Indie didn't like what Kumiro had to say, but he trusted Dune, and right now, the city needed him and Kumiro.

There were few people on the streets now as Indie made his way to the ATLAS main tower. The quake had cleared the city of any stragglers, forcing them to flee for their lives or be swallowed by the shaking ground. Fires were raging unchecked all over the city, casting a dull red haze over everything, and that strange smoke Dune had warned them about was everywhere. Indie only caught glimpses of shadows flitting from one building to the next, dimly backlit by the flames and lightning, but he could hear the constant cries of fear and death everywhere. It was a somber journey through the once beautiful city, and Indie grieved that he had lived long enough to see his home brought to this.

Despite the dangers swirling around Indie, he walked confidently towards his destination in perfect safety. One of the great discoveries he had made after Phoenix Isle was the strange power of his moogle Kumiro to not only predict and read natural phenomena, but to manipulate them as well. This was the great secret of his ATLAS technology, and one that he had kept to himself for many years. Kumiro was able to control the weather in his immediate area, and Indie had studied and applied this limited effect on a grand scale with the invention of the ATLAS.

None of the moogles native to Narsille had displayed this ability, and Indie suspected that a part of the magical energies that preserved Phoenix Isle still flowed through his mysterious little friend. Now, he was using his friend as a sort of umbrella against the typhoon raging through Narsille. While the Master of Storms howled with his most ferocious energies around Indie, inside the protective range of Kumiro's power everything was calm. Even the lethal smoke would not pass through Kumiro's sphere of influence.

As Indie made his way deeper into the city, though, it became much more dangerous. Kumiro's powers worked against the elements, but not against the ravages of a crumbling city. Fires and flooding were rampant this far into the city, and Indie could tell that the immense mythril towers would not stand against the combined destructive force of nature's might much longer. Some of the buildings had already begun to fail, and huge chunks of glittering blue debris piled the twisted streets of Narsille's heart.

Indie wondered if the ATLAS tower was even still standing at this point, and if there really was anything one man could do in the face of such devastation. He knew he had come too far to turn back, and it wasn't like him to give into to pessimism and despair. Indie carefully picked his way past fallen rubble and turned vehicles, around devouring flames and rising floodwaters, and through hurricane-force winds and blinding rain until he finally found the foot of the hill that his tower had been built on. Craning his face upwards, he saw that the tower was still standing at the top of the steep hill and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, Kumiro, at least we didn't come all this way for a pile of scrap. Now comes the fun part. We climb."

"Ku-po!" The moogle said with the same determination as his master.

"It's not so bad for you," Indie said with a smile. "You've got wings. All I've got is this old stick."

Indie laughed grimly and set his feet firmly on what was left of the path up the hill. It was a torturously slow ascent, and Indie had to stop several times to lean on his staff and catch his breath. Kumiro waited patiently every step of the way, never leaving his master's side.

"Oy, I am getting too old for this," Indie said between ragged breaths. "I should have given myself more time. I'll never make it up this hill and back down again in two hours. Bismark will probably leave without me at this point." Indie paused and looked at his moogle friend, fluttering patiently just in front of him. "Well Kumiro, this city may be my grave after all. If it starts to look bad, I want you to get out of here and find someplace safe, you hear me?"

"Pu!" Kumiro said unhappily.

"Don't give me any guff," Indie said. "You can fly right on our of this city in no time at all, no matter what's going on in the sky. I can't. If I tell you to go, you go. Understand?"

"Puu..."

"Puu is right. Now, let's get to that tower before this hill falls apart."

Indie banged his staff once on the ground and forced himself up to the hill's summit. The ATLAS tower loomed over the two of them, standing just as stubbornly against the storm as they did. It was a tall spire of metal twisting high into the sky and tapering into a single long antenna at its top. Various smaller antennae and dishes jutted out from the main structure at every level, giving it a strange spiny appearance.

Normally there was a small group of Indie's most trusted scientists manning the tower at all times, but Indie could see no one from where he stood. There were no guards at the entrance, either, meaning any one could be lurking inside. Indie doubted there was a single soul still inside the building now, and confidently pushed the double doors open. Not surprisingly, the lights were off and the usual hum of machinery was gone. Indie knew all this tower's secrets, though, and he knew if he could make it to the ATLAS generator, he could make it work, despite the power outage.

"Well, Kumiro, it's time to put your brand of magic to the test, eh?" Indie said happily. He was always eager to explore the possibilities of the strange powers around him that defied scientific explanation. The world may be going to hell, but Indie was still a scientist, and this would be a grand experiment indeed. And if it worked...

The two climbed the spiraling staircase up, up, up all the way to the top of the deserted building. No power meant no elevators, and once again Indie cursed his old age. At the top floor Indie nearly fell over, hanging onto his staff and breathing heavily.

"Damn these old bones," Indie muttered as he got back to his feet slowly. "Kumiro, get the door, please."

The moogle flew over to the sturdy door that led outside, and pushed it open with all the strength his small frame could manage. A blast of wind and rain hit the two, nearly sucking them out of the building. The wind at this height was enough to hurl a person to their death like a doll, but Kumiro's weather-controlling power kept both of them safe from the storm's onslaught. Indie slowly dragged himself to the base of the tall antenna that capped the tower.

The famous ATLAS generator responsible for the paradise the Narsillians lived in was surprisingly small for the far-reaching effects it created. At the base of the antenna was a strange white dome with a faceted surface, like a giant spherical gemstone. At the moment, it was completely silent, and appeared to be as dead as the rest of the building. It was only three meters wide, and yet it had the power to control the weather of an entire region. The secret of this device's power was a notoriously well-kept secret, and only Indie himself knew the full extent of its inner workings.

"Let's get this over with," Indie grumbled, putting one aging hand on the surface of the dome, gripping his staff tightly with the other hand. He ran his hand over the surface gently like he was petting an animal. The device remained silent, but Indie's expert hand found the hidden catch that manually opened the dome to expose the mysterious innards of the machine. The dome gracefully twisted back like a blossoming flower, revealing a sight that would have baffled even the greatest minds of Narsille.

Inside the heart of the ATLAS rested a small red orb, with a hundred small wires connecting it to the various weather-controlling modules that made up the inside of the machine. This apple-sized orb was the sole power source of the machine, and the greatest secret of Narsille. Not even the top Committee members knew exactly how Indie's machine did what it did, and Indie had worked hard to keep it that way. Even if he tried to explain it, who would believe him? Magic was the stuff of fairy tales, after all.

This miraculous machine was a fusion of modern technology and ancient magic, and only someone who had seen such divine powers first-hand could appreciate the intricate beauty and wonderful simplicity of this machine. And it was so simple! The strange red orb was nothing more than a moogle's pom-pom, carefully hooked up to machines to harness, amplify, and direct its strange weather-influencing properties.

Long ago, Kumiro had willingly sacrificed the soft hair-like ball on his head for science. It had grown back like a regular hair after a few months, and ever since then Indie had been secretly harvesting his friend's pom-poms every few years to keep the machine active. Indie told no one of this odd ritual, and even his closest assistants never knew exactly what their boss did at the top of the ATLAS tower.

It was such an absurd idea that Indie wondered what they would do if he told them the truth. Probably lock him up as a madman. But his insanity had brought unparalleled peace to the city for thirty years. Now, that peace had come to an end at last, and Indie was afraid even he would be unable to stop the city's destruction at this late point. But he had to try.

"Alright, Kumiro, time to see if this works. You know what to do."

The moogle nodded gravely and flew over the ATLAS dome, hovering just above its open interior. With a deft clicking of his claws, Kumiro clipped his own pom-pom from his head and Indie caught it as it fell. Instantly he felt a change in pressure that meant the effects of Kumiro's power had lessened as soon as the pom-pom was removed. Indie knew he only had a brief window of time to remove the old pom-pom and attach the new one before its disconnected powers waned and became just an inert ball of fur.

With deft fingers Indie removed the tangle of wires from the old pom-pom and rearranged them around the new one. When he was finished he stepped back and waited. This was a long shot, but it was the only thing he could do for his city.

After a minute the red pom-pom began to vibrate, sending its foreign power through the circuits of the ATLAS mainframe. The machine hummed in tune with its vibrating red core, and Indie could feel something happening in the air around him. Would it be enough?

The wind that had been slowly pushing Indie harder and harder suddenly lessened, then ceased altogether. No rain fell around the device and its operator, and Indie felt a surge of warmth that told him the generator was working. He adjusted a few dials and watched as the humming grew louder. The range of the calming wave spread to the entire top of the tower, then slowly outwards into the city. Indie clapped his hands and shouted with joy. In a few hours the wave would encompass the entire city, and the storm would be over.

The moment of peace was cruelly short-lived. The wave spread outwards for a short distance, then came to halt only a few hundred meters from the tower. Something was preventing it from reaching any further. Indie cursed and looked around for the interfering source. The rising sphere of the ATLAS's influence had reached the bottom of the rolling thunderclouds above, and been repelled like an annoying insect.

A lightning bolt sliced through the air like a sword, striking the ATLAS antenna. An explosion of thunder and fire threw Indie and Kumiro to the floor of the tower's roof. Pieces of charred and twisted metal rained down on them like shrapnel, striking them both mercilessly. Indie covered his tiny friend, taking the brunt of the damage.

Another screaming bolt of lightning lit the entire area, revealing a loathsome sight Indie had hoped he would never see again.

Hovering smugly a little way from the tower was a great silvery serpent, its wide maw glittering with a gluttonous smile that Indie knew only too well. Leviathan had arrived to greet his new guests.

"Professor! How nice of you to visit me!" The booming voice of Leviathan vibrated through the air. Thunder was roaring all around him, and a continuous web of flickering lightning illuminated his vast form in the surrounding darkness.

Indie had been injured by the antenna's debris, but he still managed to stand with the help of his staff. Kumiro huddled around his master's feet, terrified. Indie looked Leviathan squarely in his massive eye, anger boiling to the surface.

"Levi, you devil! Get away from here!" Indie shouted.

Leviathan laughed, a gurgling sound echoing from deep in his throat. He swam through the air with blinding speed, stopping less than a meter from Indie. His staring eye faced the old man unblinkingly. The yellow fish's eye was as tall as Indie, and any other man would have cowered in terror at such an intimidating sight. Indie stood his ground and smiled grimly.

"You're days of scaring me are long over, Levi. I know you feed on the fear of others, and you won't get anything from me."

To drive his point home, Indie raised his staff and struck at the pale eye with as much force as he had left. Leviathan recoiled backwards in pain, his glowing fish eye going out like lamp.

"You'll pay for that," Leviathan hissed. "I was going to devour you quickly, but you deserve something much worse."

"Do you're worst, you coward." Indie said.

Leviathan roared in anger, then turned his other eye to Indie. This eye was a crackling void, filled with currents of electricity. Indie did not want to try his luck coming into contact with that maelstrom of magical energy.

Leviathan curled his long form into a tight mass, then stretched himself around the entire top of the tower, trapping Indie in a circle of death. His black eye still stared directly at Indie, tempting him to attack it like he did the other. With each lap, Leviathan tightened the circle, threatening to crush his victim to death.

"Kumiro...," Indie whispered while Leviathan was circling around them. "Remember what I said before? Get out of here. Now." Indie grabbed the moogle and tossed him straight up into the air.

"Kupo! Kupopopopo!" Kumiro tried to fly back down to Indie, but Indie gave him such a look that he stopped in mid-air, a baleful look on his face.

"GO!" Indie bellowed, raising his staff at his friend to ward him off.

"Puuuuuuu..." The moogle wailed as it flew up and away from his doomed master. He would follow his master's wishes, even now.

Indie watched crestfallen as his long-time companion disappeared into the distance, his mournful cry fading into the wind and rain. He turned his tear-streaked face back to Leviathan's encroaching mass, ready to defy the beast to his last breath. He stood straight up and struck the ground with his staff, silently beckoning the monster to come at him.

Leviathan paid no notice to the tiny white ball that flew away, only caring about exacting his revenge on Indie. He roared with laughter at Indie's determination, sending sparks of lightning into the area within his body to shake the tiny human's resolve.

Indie let the sparks strike him, still standing firm with his staff raised. Each spark felt like a thousand volts of electricity, and he knew he couldn't survive very many of them. But he also knew Leviathan would crush him before the sparks killed him, so he ignored the pain of his injuries and stood tall.

"You are a tough old man, Professor Ramsus Indra," Leviathan spoke almost respectfully. "You think you're about to die, don't you?" Leviathan laughed in his deep throaty way, tightening his coiled form closer and closer.

"I have secret for you," Leviathan spoke, lowering his voice the closer he got to Indie. He circled several more times, finally reaching his prey. Before his immense girth crushed the life out of Indie, he said in a harsh whisper, directly into Indie's ear:

"You will not die. You will join me, and with your power I will reign as king of this world, with the Goddess as my queen. That is your fate, old man." Leviathan laughed as he wrapped his body around the body of Indie, lifting the unconscious form off the ruined tower.

"It seems Phantom will be joining us momentarily with my other guest." Leviathan said to himself as he sped away from the tower with Indie in tow. "We had better prepare ourselves for my bride, Indie...or should I say Ramuh? Hahaha..."


	72. Dream's End, 'Into the Jaws of Madness'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.9 - Into the Jaws of Madness**

Draco was appalled at the transformation of the once beautiful city below him. He had only enjoyed the paradise of Narsille for a short time, but in that time he had realized there was no other place on the planet that could compare. The wondrous technology, the extravagance, the majesty, and more than anything else, the absolute peace of the city had deeply moved Draco. Even if he distrusted the people who ruled this nation, he envied their accomplishment. As the new ruler of West Jidorik, Draco had hoped that one day his humble country could reach the pinnacle of civilization Narsille had attained.

But now that dream was gone. As he soared above the collapsing city in the arms of Genju, he watched with a heavy heart the fate that had befallen the city of his dreams. Flames, wreckage, and bodies filled the once immaculately organized streets, now cracked and twisted from the earthquake. A persistent red glow rising from beneath the ground had taken the place of the welcoming electric aura that had lit the entire city only a few hours ago. The glittering blue towers that had been the envy of the world were now soot-stained and rapidly deteriorating under the pressures of a combined disaster unlike anything the architects could have predicted. And worst of all, even from his height Draco could still hear the wails of a dying populace trapped in the ruins far below. There were people down there, countless scores of them, and there was nothing he could do to save them now. He had never felt less like a great war hero than now.

There was one person he was determined to save from this hellish den of demons, though. Kite, such a poor mistreated girl, had been taken from right under his protection and was now being transported back into the clutches of her former master, Levi, now the beast Leviathan. Draco had learned of the girl's miserable life on Levi's ship, and instantly warmed to her courage and spirit. To be freed from such evil bondage only to return to it was a fate Draco's noble heart couldn't bear. He would make that monster pay, no matter how powerful he had become. If he was still a creature of flesh, then that flesh could be pierced, and there was no finer blade than Draco's Scion.

"Such carnage," Genju's weary voice said from above Draco, turning him from his reverie. "I had hoped to never again see the ravages of an Esper war in my lifetime." Genju looked down at Draco with a cold look in his ancient eyes. "Look well, human, and burn this image into your memory and the memories of your children, lest you forget the price of magic like your foolish ancestors."

Genju and Draco remained silent as they flew through the darkening skies in pursuit of the strange Esper that had spirited Kite away. Genju's protective barrier shielded them from the relentless force of the storm, and his powerful wings carried them towards their target with a speed Draco had never suspected the ancient being possessed.

And yet, it seemed the ghost-like Esper moved just as fast, shimmering ahead of them like a mirage. Draco could only faintly discern the murky outline of the Esper as it sped through the air, but Genju seemed to be able to follow its trail as well as the infamous Red Fangs from his homeland. And Kite was somewhere in the jaws of that deathly mist.

"Look," Genju said quietly as they passed over the center of the city.

"That's...!" Draco gasped, recognizing the area despite the transformation. It was the former location of the Committee headquarters, now a yawning pit of fire. Several of the surrounding mythril towers had toppled into the flames, and were slowly being eaten away by the voracious maw.

"The mark of Moloch, the Master of Fire." Genju finished. "There will be others very soon. If no one stops him, the entire region will be buried in his flames, and there will be nothing left but ash."

"We will stop him." Draco said defiantly.

Genju said nothing, but shook his head sadly and continued past the scene of the Committee's demise. They were only a few meters away from Kite's kidnapper now, and Draco had unsheathed his sword. Soon he would be close enough to strike, and he would see just how ghost-like this Esper was.

"Draco, do not attack until I am close enough to enfold our foe in my barrier," Genju said as they approached the nearly invisible Esper. "My barrier should dispel his magic, and force him to show himself."

Draco nodded, and gripped his sword with both hands. Soon...

The cloudy form seemed to sense their approach, and quickly veered away from them, spreading out in all directions. It flowed around Genju's barrier and tried to trap the two in a barrier of its own. For a moment, everything went black as the cloud thickened into an impenetrable sphere of darkness. Draco felt his body grow heavy as if his armor had doubled in weight, and feared Genju would not be able to hold him. Something in the strange black sphere was greatly increasing his weight, threatening to drag him down into the chaos of Narsille's streets far below.

"Do not worry, the holy power of my barrier will break this foul trap," Genju said calmly. "Be ready to strike."

Genju spread his two free hands outwards, and extended his barrier to collide with the black cloud. Bright light mixed with the opposing energy and tore large holes in its surface like rays of sunlight piercing the darkness. The cloud form hissed in pain as the black energy dissolved away, leaving only the Esper's exposed body hovering right in front of them. Kite was wrapped securely in the folds of his filthy rags.

Draco wasted no time taking advantage of this opening. He reflexively swung at the Esper as soon as it had appeared, instinctively adjusting his aim to avoid harming Kite. The Scion hummed through the air and slashed at an exposed arm, severing it from the creature's body. The ghastly white limb fell through the air for a brief second, then vanished into smoke. Black mist seeped out from where the arm had been.

A strangled howl of pain echoed from deep inside the featureless void where the Esper's face should have been, then stopped. The two red coals of its eyes flared in anger, but the Esper remained maddeningly silent. Draco raised his sword for a second blow, aimed at its head, but it shot towards the nearest tower instead, renewing the chase.

"That sword is no ordinary blade, my friend," Genju said with admiration, looking at Draco's crystalline Scion curiously as he swooped down toward where the wounded Esper had fled. "To wound an Esper so easily, there must be magic in the forging of that weapon."

"It is a family heirloom, passed down through the Christophe line for generations. I know not its origins." Draco said, wondering himself at the true history of his trusted blade. He had always known that the Scion was a mighty blade with no equal, but he had never suspected it was magic. Of course, he had never suspected there was such a thing as magic to begin with. And now, he was plunging head first into a world of magic.

The two followed their prey down to the roof of the mythril tower, prepared to finish him off. No sooner had they reached safe ground than the air shook with the powerful vibration of a nearby thunderbolt. The flash blinded them long enough for the enemy Esper to retreat to the far corner of the building's roof. Kite was fighting furiously in his weakened grasp, but she was still no match for the magic binding her.

Another brilliant blast of lightning shook the tower, sending Genju and Draco sprawling for cover at the opposite end of the tower. It seemed the storm itself was coming to the aid of their foe.

Genju stood up and walked straight toward the center of the tower. He stopped and looked straight up into the sky.

"Show yourself, demon of Astarte!" Genju commanded.

Knowing the game was up, the great serpent form of Leviathan slithered down from the clouds above, a huge grin on his viper's face. He settled himself near his fellow Esper, barring any further attack.

"Very well, old man," Leviathan said casually, still smiling. "You have attacked my emissary, Phantom, and you will have to be punished for such rudeness." Leviathan's magical eye crackled with barely contained electric energy as he stared at Genju and Draco.

"Master...I have her..." Phantom rasped from his corner.

Leviathan turned his head towards his ally as fast as a whip crack, focusing his great eye on the prize still struggling in Phantom's grip. His toothy smile widened at the sight of the last surviving member of his ill-fated crew.

"Good!" Leviathan cackled. "Bring her here. I want these two to watch."

Phantom obeyed his master and glided to where Leviathan's massive form rested, curled like a snake waiting to strike. He let go of Kite and wafted back to a respectful distance from his master. Kite started to run, but Leviathan's tail snatched her off the ground before she could even move one step.

"Kite, Kite, Kite..." Leviathan crooned. "Did you really think you could escape me? You know better than anyone that I never let go of what is mine. And you are still mine, my sweet little kitten."

"No! Never! Let me go! I won't go back! Let...me...GO!" Kite screamed, her voice rising frantically higher with each gasped word. This was worse than her worst nightmare, and the longer she looked into those monstrous eyes, the more tenuous her hold on her own sanity became. The things Captain Jonah Levi had done to her were horrible. The things this Leviathan might do were far too black to be imagined. Kite continued screaming, well past the point of hysteria.

"Let her go, you fiend!" Draco yelled. He had his sword in hand, and was quickly advancing towards where Genju stood. Genju stretched one of his great white wings out to block Draco's path.

"What are you doing?" Draco raged. "Let me pass! I'll cut her free or die trying!"

"Be still, Draco," Genju said. "You could strike him a hundred times and do no more damage than a knife against a mighty oak. That sword of yours may be able to cut him, but in mere human hands such as yours it would still never be enough to rescue the girl, let alone slay the beast. Be patient."

"Argh..." Draco growled, staring at Leviathan with impotent fury.

Leviathan roared in amusement at Draco's and Kite's futile struggles. "Listen to him, little man. My scales are far tougher than my slave's rotten flesh. Your toy sword won't save this one. Only I can save her now."

Leviathan turned his gaze back to Kite, who was still struggling like a wild animal. Sweat covered her brow and her eyes were glazed over in pure terror. Leviathan widened his grin and moved his massive face closer to Kite. He opened his mouth as if to swallow her whole just as the tip of his snout reached her forehead. His hot, damp breath washed over the poor girl's face, and her last ounce of willpower finally fell apart. With a hoarse cry, Kite's eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted dead away, overcome by the thought of being literally devoured by the great monster of her life.

Seeing his handiwork, Leviathan pulled his face away from Kite's, laughing as he shut his mouth. He loosened his grip on Kite's body, letting her fall to the ground in a heap.

"Now my precious pet, come to me. Come and serve your lord and master once again, now and forever!"

Genju and Draco watched helplessly as Leviathan turned his black eye on Kite. Tiny bolts of lightning coursed across the empty orb, leaping in a graceful arc onto Kite's body. The current flowed outwards and over her, forming a cocoon of electricity that veiled her body in light.

"What is he doing to her?" Draco said through gritted teeth. He didn't think he could stand by and watch this much longer.

"I see..." Genju said, watching Leviathan's strange actions carefully. "This is how the Vessels are creating more Espers. They use their own bodies as magical conduits to transfer the power of their Master into their victims. It is a horrifying perversion of the Nexus's powers..."

"Enough!" Draco shouted, pushing Genju's wing down. "I'll attack while he's distracted. You can stay here and talk if that's what you want!"

Draco nimbly jumped over Genju's wing and rushed at Leviathan's exposed head with all the force he could muster. Genju tried to stop him, but was unprepared for Draco's rash decision. Before he could do anything, Draco had his sword raised above his head and was on his way to what Genju knew would be his certain destruction.

"Hyaah!" With a deadly downward stroke Draco swung his sword into Leviathan's black eye, expecting to blind the monster. Draco watched in slow-motion as his sword arm did not connect with solid flesh, but continued downward into the black hole. The blade was struck by a surge of charged energy swirling in the void, sending a bolt of electricity running up Draco's wildly swinging arm. He was hurled back a dozen meters like a lifeless doll, sparks shooting out from his quivering body. The evil magicks inside Leviathan's eye were electrocuting the foolhardy warrior.

Genju rushed forward and caught Draco before he hit the ground, and for a moment he, too, felt the tremendous flow of energy that had crippled Draco. It was a horrible feeling of deja vu, and Genju knew this was the very same force he had felt coming from Dune before. This was the very same force he himself had succumbed to a thousand years ago, causing his exile.

Genju channeled the vile energy through his body and into his barrier, siphoning the current from both his and Draco's bodies and into the skies above. To Genju's dismay, the current did not weaken, and powerful elemental electricity continued to flow from Leviathan's eye, up the blade of the Scion, and through Draco's and Genju's bodies. A pillar of lightning was rising from Genju's barrier into the clouds, but no matter how much he strengthened the barrier, more energy flowed from the void of the black eye.

"I...I'm sorry, Genju...I was a fool..." Draco stuttered, his body wracked with pain and convulsions.

"What will be, will be, young one," Genju said as he struggled to keep the flow of lightning from consuming them both. "Our fate is in Altimus's hands now."

_"LEEEEVIIIII!" _

A deafening roar swept over the tower, and with a terrific rush of wind and water a massive blur of bluish-white slammed into Leviathan's body. The mighty serpent was pushed over the edge of the tower and out of sight, breaking the lethal connection with Draco's sword.

"What on earth was that?" Draco gasped, still shaking from the shock.

"We have to leave here. Now!" Genju said, regaining his balance. "The War of the Gods has begun, and we must not be caught in the middle." Genju looked at Draco with eyes full of fear. Draco had never seen fear in the mighty Esper's face before.

"Wha...?" Draco stuttered, but was cut off as Leviathan's deep roar echoed from below. There was another violent collision, and the tower swayed as if struck by a giant hammer.

"That was an Esper of Chemosh!" Genju said frantically. "Do you understand, human? The war has started! Esper against Esper, God against God, and no one will win! We must flee before we're obliterated in their mindless raging! Come!"

Genju grabbed Draco forcefully with all four of his hands and lifted off from the trembling rooftop. Draco protested, but could do nothing against the Esper's strength.

"What about Kite, dammit!" Draco cried, but as he looked to where Kite's body had lain wrapped in light, there was nothing. Both Kite and Phantom were gone.

"Your friend is gone, consumed by the power of Astarte. She will soon join this hopeless battle as a slave to the Goddess's will. I am sorry, but we can do nothing for her now."

"You heartless bastard! Is there any humanity left in you at all!" Draco shouted, but was cut short by a strange sight. The great Esper, Genju the Eldest, was crying.

Draco knew instantly that he had spoken rashly. "I...I'm sorry..."

"Look before you and remember, human," Genju said, his voice choked with emotion as he fled the madness behind them. "Never forget the price of magic. If this world survives, teach your children of this day, and your grandchildren. Such senseless tragedy should never visit the world once, let alone twice. I weep for our wicked souls."


	73. Dream's End, 'Life or Death'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.10 - Life or Death**

Captain Mobius Bismark awakened to a very different world than what he was expecting after his savage encounter with Maduin. He had expected to be killed by the traitorous Esper that had taken over Dune's body, but at the moment he wasn't quite sure whether he was alive or dead, awake or dreaming.

_Walk the path of your heart, and the dream shall end._

These words had risen unbidden into Bismark's mind the moment he regained awareness. He looked around for the speaker, a young woman by the sound of it, but there was no one here except him. But where was here?

Spreading out from where Bismark found himself was the strangest environment he had ever seen in all his long years. To his left was a vast expanse of ice, perfectly smooth. A harsh wind blew from the western horizon, chilling him to his core. To his right was a wild ocean, waves tumbling against each other for as far back as he could see. A warm wind like the gentle breath of some slumbering giant flowed over him from the eastern horizon. In between, there was a narrow path of flames, melting the infinite ice into infinite seas. It was on this path that Bismark stood, wondering what the words he had heard meant.

_Your heart is a battleground of conflicting desires, my child. You must choose your path, or be lost forever._

Bismark was about to shout at the invisible voice to explain, but stopped when he took a step forward in anger. He had stepped with his false leg, but had felt the sensation of life in his long gone limb. Looking down, he was amazed to find that both his legs were whole, and feeling his face, both his eyes could see. Either this was a dream, or he really was dead.

"What is this!" Bismark shouted, regaining his voice and his old impatience. He did not like mysteries, and he did not feel like he was dead or asleep.

_My most devoted of children, you are on the border between life and death. Please, walk forward and follow your heart..._

The voice was beautiful, and filled Bismark with a strangely familiar warmth. He could drown in that voice, the voice of his deepest desires. It sounded like a lover in the dark. It sounded like his mother when he was a child. It sounded like the ocean in his dreams. It sounded like...

"Elia..." Bismark whispered reverently.

_You are a true child of the sea to call me in this place, Mobius. It pleases me to hear my name in the deepest recesses of your soul. Now! Follow your words and walk with me!_

Bismark was stunned to hear his suspicion acknowledged. He looked around him for a sign of the legendary Maiden of Water, the patron goddess of all sea-faring men. But there was only the deathly pale plain of ice to the west, and the endless tumultuous seas to the east. And that narrow path of fire in between.

There was nothing else he could do, so he began to walk, keeping a vigil for the Maiden of his dreams. The flames licked at his two good feet, but they did not burn. He did not see any sign of an end to this narrow path. Only an endless line of fire stretching and stretching to the limits of his now perfect vision, but with each step the flames grew slightly smaller.

_You must choose._ _The path of fire is the twilit path of mortals. If you continue that path, your fading fire will flicker and die, and you will die as well. If this is what you wish, then continue..._

"I don't want to die just yet, Miss." Bismark said nervously, not sure at all of his sanity. This was madness, talking to the Maiden of Water as he walked on fire.

To test the words of the Maiden, he took one step onto the glacial expanse to his right. The moment he did, another voice roared into his mind. This voice was the exact opposite of the Maiden's, and was filled with rage and hate.

_Yes! Ignore the calling of the Maiden and her waters. You will only drown in their seductive embrace. With my aid, you can have power, and revenge! Even now, Levi enjoys the blessings of his own Goddess, and uses it to toy with your friends' lives. Will you forget them in the warm folds of Mare Magnum, the Great Ocean?_

Bismark did not like the biting cold he felt shoot up his body when he stood on the ice, but the words of that other voice, as hate-filled as they were, struck a chord in Bismark's soul. How he hated Levi! And he knew he was powerless to stop the monster in his current form of Leviathan. Was this the answer? Was this his revenge?

_Mobius! Do not be deceived by the cold spears of my brother. He taunts you with promises that will cost you dearly to accept. My path is not one of power and violence, but of healing and of peace. Mare Magnum welcomes all weary travelers, and washes away all pains in its infinite depths. Join me, my child._

"Damn you both!" Bismark shouted. "What of my friends? What of Dune? What of Levi?"

The cold voice of Chemosh, of Doom:_ Join me, and you can destroy Levi. Our goals are the same in this. The Leviathan must be stopped, and I can give you the power to stand against him._

The gentle voice of Elia, the Maiden: _Join me, and you can save your friends, save Dune. Forget Levi and your mortal anger. Forget everything and be at peace._

Bismark took a step back from the ice, firmly planting both feet in the flames between. What was he supposed to do? He felt hopelessly torn between the two extremes of his life - anger and devotion. His hatred of Levi was only matched by his love for Dune. He knew he couldn't just abandon Dune to seek vengeance against Levi, but to let that monster run free while he enjoyed the comforts of a peaceful life...wherever the Maiden would lead him...that was almost as unbearable as leaving Dune to the monster that had possessed him.

"Elia, help me!" Bismark cried out.

_She cannot help you. You must choose for yourself what path you walk. _Doom's voice hummed malevolently.

_Remember, this is your world, and you must shape it as your heart wills._ Elia's voice, soft, but insistent.

Bismark could feel the flames beneath him weakening, and he knew he had to make his choice now, or die in vain. He looked above him, but the only thing in all directions was that same accursed storm that plagued him in the real world. It seemed even larger, even closer here. Bismark felt like he could reach up and tear that damnable cloud down from the heavens with his bare hands here. Those clouds were at the beginning of his nightmare, and here they were at its end.

_Remember, this is your world_. Elia's words echoed in his mind. _My world..._

Bismark walked slowly down the fading path of fire as he thought about those words. Without saying anything, he stopped and looked up at the clouds with a piercing stare, and then he reached into the sky. And kept reaching, straining his body to its limits. He watched as his hands reached further and further, far past what he thought was the length of his arms. And yet the clouds grew closer and closer, and his hands reached further and further. There was no change in his height, and no change in his surroundings, yet the more he strained, the closer the swirling blackness above him came.

Before he fully knew what he was doing, he had the cloud in his giant's reach, and was doing exactly what he had thought of doing - he was tearing the heavens down with his bare hands. Great swaths of darkness came away with each tearing grasp, and beyond was a shining light of pure sunlight.

_What are you doing, fool? _Doom's normally arrogant voice sounded confused, afraid.

Bismark did not pay any attention to the sound of Doom's voice. He was a man obsessed. Soon he had succeeded in ripping that black stain from his soul, and now stood staring at a clear, white brilliance above him. But he was not finished. His heart led him where his mind could not follow, and he continued reaching, growing as he did. The light grew closer, and he kept reaching upwards through sheer will.

_Yes! _Elia's voice rose up from within him. _You can feel the divine power at the core of your soul, my child! Keep reaching into the very deepest recesses of your life's essence, of all life's essence, and you will find the answer you seek._

_Stop!_ Doom's voice again, weaker, but still powerful in its hate and fear. _You don't know what you're doing! That is not the path of salvation, only the path of self-destruction. If you reach for the Forge of Creation, you will by burned to a cinder!_

But Bismark did not hear anything Doom said, or Elia. His entire being was filled with the blinding light ahead of him. He reached with the utmost strength of his will and almost leapt into the great luminescence. His hands embraced the light, and he felt a surge of power like nothing he had ever felt before. It blinded and burned him, but he held on with every last fiber of his spirit. Something deep inside was urging him on, telling him not to let go or he would be annihilated.

_Fool! Let go! The Forge is not for you!_

Doom's voice faded to silence, and another voice sounded in Bismark's ears, impossible to ignore. He could not see, and the pain of the burning light numbed him to all sensations except sound, but the voice he heard now was neither Doom's nor Elia's. It was a crisp, powerful voice that stirred him to the very core of his being. He could not deny this voice, and if it commanded his destruction, he knew he would be powerless to disobey it.

_"My son, hold tight onto this light, and do not release it. Indomitable is you resolve, and unbreakable your spirit. You have forged your own path through the chaos of your soul, as you have always done in life. Now, my dreamer, awaken! Awaken, and see what it is you have wrought from the Forge!_

Bismark felt himself rising through the maelstrom of his dream world, his hands firmly clenched around the glorious light. As he rose, he heard the voice of Elia, the Maiden of Water far below.

_Oh, my child, you have chosen well. But beware! Those who fight destiny and make their own path must live with the world they create, for good or ill. Use our gift wisely, and never let the light of hope fade from our world!_

Bismark awoke with a gasp, his head throbbing and his shoulder numb. But he was alive, and back in the world he knew. He opened his eyes, but found to his intense displeasure that only one eye obeyed him. A quick push off the ground and he knew he had lost his leg once again as well.

"What is this?" A harsh, growling voice sounded from above him. It was the voice of Maduin, the self-proclaimed Herald of Doom.

Bismark looked up into the demon-like face of Dune's imprisoner and laughed. It hurt, but the pain was good, it was real. And he felt something else, something warm in his hands. Without looking away from Maduin's cold eyes, he knew what it was he held. Genju had been right, after all. Bismark laughed harder.

"What has happened, you wretched old man? Why are you awake? Why are you laughing!" Maduin did not understand what had went wrong. This was supposed to be a gift for his master, Chemosh. But something had gone wrong. And what was glowing in the old man's hands?

Bismark stopped laughing and stared directly into Maduin's eyes, eyes that were now filling with fear.

"This is for Dune, you bastard. You will give him back!" Bismark said savagely, a terrible grin on his face.

"What...!" Maduin stuttered, completely undone.

Bismark jumped up from the ground and pushed both his glowing hands straight into Maduin's broad chest, holding them there. The light in his hands exploded and engulfed both him and Maduin. Bismark felt a tug at his chest as the light flowed around them, and knew exactly what was happening. His life force was being siphoned out of his body and into Maduin's, purifying him of the dark presence inside, but at the cost of Bismark's own life.

"Silas...I'm returning what I took from you..." Bismark said, his strength ebbing away. His eyes never left the total blue eyes of Maduin, even as the life faded from them. Just as Bismark's gaze dulled, so too did Maduin's. When the holy light had finally faded, both Bismark and Maduin lay in a heap, the exchange of power completed.

Maduin howled in agony inside his fiendish mind, feeling his own existence waver. Deep inside the dream world of the twisted Esper form, the spirit of Dune struggled in the claws of a vastly larger Maduin. Here, Maduin was king, and held Dune in his grip like a rag doll. The battlefield was once again the icy plains of Cocytus, with Doom's grotesque corpse-like form towering above all, watching the struggle unfold.

Ever since his trial in the Nexus, Dune had been at the mercy of the titanic Maduin's power. The terrible murder of Cassandra by his own hands had filled him with hatred and fear of himself, and Doom had used those negative emotions to craft the giant Maduin around Dune's own soul, trapping his hapless vessel in the frozen prison of his own Cocytus.

All this time, Dune had been powerless against his own self-loathing, but now something was changing. The world shook, and deep cracks spread from the other end of Cocytus, opposite Doom's throne.

"Grrr...Damn you Bismark...I will have my revenge for this," Doom's massive voice rumbled from far above Dune and Maduin.

Dune watched in stunned silence as a brilliant ray of light shot down from the empty void above him, colliding with the larger-than-life form of Maduin. Maduin shuddered as the light enveloped him, dropping Dune to the cold floor. More rays of light burst from the cracks in the ice, filling the realm of Cocytus with a warmth it had never known before.

"Master, help me!" Maduin pleaded as he shrank further.

Doom said nothing and did not move to help his herald. Maduin had failed, and now the Master of Ice knew what would inevitably follow.

By the time Maduin had reached the same size as Dune, the light was everywhere, melting the ice and thawing the fear that had frozen Dune's soul.

"Until we meet again, my Vessel..." Doom's voice sounded from far in the distance, fading into the light. It sounded old, tired. In that ancient voice was a dull rage that said it knew it was doomed to always be vanquished by the power of love, and hope.

As Doom faded from his mind once and for all, Dune stood up and looked at Maduin, now powerless without his Master. He walked up to the Esper and put his hand on the beast's chest. The gravity crystal still hung there, and with a sharp tug Dune pulled it off and flung it into one of the cracks, where a ray of purifying light blasted it into nothing.

"I am no longer yours or anyone else's slave. I will take back my body, and my freedom!" Dune shouted. He put both his hands on the shoulders of Maduin and gripped them as hard as he could, feeling the hard skin crumble in the grip of his iron will. The Esper vanished in a swirling cone of light, and Dune was left alone, master of his soul at last.

"Well done, my child." A voice sang from all around Dune.

"Who...you?" Dune said, then gasped as he held in his sight the woman from his idyllic vision in the Mordic. "Are you Elia?"

The young woman stood before Dune on the melting world of ice, the warm waters under her bare feet rapidly turning the false Cocytus into a churning sea. Before Dune could say anything more, he found himself back on the quiet shores of the dream sea. The lush forest sprang up behind him, and the sounds of life filled his ears once more. He glanced down and saw the same tiny crab waving its pincers at him, just like before. He smiled, and felt a great weight lift from him as he did.

"Welcome back to the Great Ocean, Dune." Elia said, the gentle breeze blowing her long hair softly around her shoulders and ruffling the thin gown she wore. She was as beautiful as Dune remembered.

"What happens now?" Dune said, feeling more at peace than he had ever felt before, and not really caring what happened next. He could lose himself here, awash in this quiet world forever. And would that be so bad?

As Dune's thoughts slowed and he contemplated walking straight into the endless waves before him, another voice brought him back to his senses.

"Dune! You're not done yet! Get up off your ass and wake up!" It was Bismark's voice, coming from somewhere beside Dune.

Dune looked to his side and saw the beams of light swirl into the shape of Captain Bismark.

"Captain? What are you doing here of all places?"

"I'm here to rescue you, you fool! Don't waste what I gave to you, Dune. She's seductive, isn't she? But she's not for you, not yet. Right now, the world needs you. Mae needs you. Now _wake up._"

Bismark's last words hit Dune like a slap in the face, and he felt the paradise around him shudder. Elia's vision wavered like a mirage, and her face was full of sadness.

"He is right. Your world still needs you, Dune. I will be here for you, waiting. You will always have a home here in the Mare Magnum."

Elia vanished into light, and Bismark followed her. Dune was left alone on the beach of his soul, wondering what he was supposed to do now. The world was quickly fading back into pure light, and Dune knew he would return to the real world any moment. But what then?

"Dune, my son, I am proud of you," another voice said from all around him, filling every corner of the vanishing world. It was a voice from his memory, a voice from childhood. It was the voice of his father.

"Father? Are you here as well?" Dune said, tears welling up in his eyes. He had only vague memories of his father, but they were his deepest memories, and he held onto them the tightest of all.

"My life force is a part of you now, thanks to Mobius's sacrifice." the voice of Silas resounded.

"Sacrifice? What do you mean?"

"I gave my life's energy to save my friend long ago, and now he has given that same energy to you, along with his own. I couldn't have asked for a better fate for my gift. Do not waste our friend's gift, Dune. You still have a long road ahead of you, and it grieves me that I am not there to walk it with you. I am sorry, my son."

"Dad! Don't go! What happened? Where is Captain Bismark?" Dune cried, afraid of what his father was telling him.

"Dune..." Silas's voice said softly, fading as the world around him faded. "I will not be able to talk to you again like this. When you wake up, you will be alone again. But do not let fear overtake you again! You must fight for your world! I pass my burden onto you, son. Keep the flame of hope alive, no matter how dark the world may seem."

"Dad, wait!"

"Farewell, my son. Remember me, and believe..."

"Dad! DAD!" Dune cried, but he was alone in his shrinking world again. There was nothing left now but light, and Dune knew it was time.

With a start he opened his eyes and looked around him. Bismark's body lay at his feet, and a haze filled his mind. Where was he? What had he been doing all this time? All his memories were a painful blur, but the sight before him started a chain reaction of memories that filled him with growing horror.

His feet...

Dune looked again at his feet and realized they were not his feet at all. They were the great clawed feet of some great beast, and as he lifted his hands to his face and felt the sharp horns and cruel teeth, he realized the nightmare was not over.

"I am...Maduin..." Dune said in a gravelly bass that was nothing like his old voice. It was the voice of a beast, the voice of an Esper, but it was still his voice, his body. He was free.


	74. Dream's End, 'Cold Embrace'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.11 - Cold Embrace**

_I am sorry..._

Bismark awoke to the fading voice of Elia and found himself once again in the empty dream world of his soul. The path of flames was under his feet again, only now it was much fainter than before. There was barely a candle's flicker and the path ended only a few meters from where he found himself. Was he so close to death? What had happened?

By all accounts, Bismark assumed he would be dead for sure after giving up his life's energy to Dune, but he still felt the slight tug of the physical world on his soul. He remembered seeing Dune in the Mare Magnum, alive and well, but nothing after that. And he was weak now, so weak...

_You are mine, Bismark._

Bismark knew that hate-filled voice instantly. It was the voice of the frozen plain that had tempted him with revenge against Levi. Bismark looked around, and realized there was nothing beyond his tiny flame but the cold wasteland now. No Mare Magnum, no storm clouds above, no blinding sunlight beyond.

There was a tiny speck of light above him that seemed like it was a million miles away, and Bismark knew that was the remainder of his soul. The blinding sphere of light had shrunk to a pinpoint in the distance. He felt far too weak to reach for it like he had before, and it was much too far away. All he wanted now was to lie down and sleep, and perhaps wake up in the Mare Magnum, Elia's peaceful realm.

His life's flame grew even dimmer, only a glowing ember now.

_There will be no peace for you, Bismark. Soon, the shackles of Cocytus will consume you, and you will be mine._

Where was Elia? Where was that other voice of power he had heard at the center of his soul? Bismark couldn't think clearly anymore, he was just too tired, too weak. He had given everything he had to save Dune, and had left nothing behind for himself. Only this dying ember of life kept him attached to the mortal world, and it would soon be gone as well. But not soon enough...

_You were foolish to forsake the Mare Magnum and choose your own path. Now there is nothing standing between_ _your dying soul and my power. I told you the path you chose was the path of self-destruction, and now you must suffer the consequences of your prideful decision._

"Elia!" Bismark cried out weakly, barely above a whisper. He had no strength to talk, not even to move. The glowing embers winked out around him, closer and closer. Perhaps he would die before that voice could take him.

_No, Bismark. There is no Elia here, only Chemosh, the Doomed. I will not let you find peace. I will snatch your soul at the last moment and then you will be a Vessel of Doom, like that accursed Dune before you._

Bismark tried to resist the growing cold, but he was at the end of his last bit of power, and could do nothing to stave off Doom's power. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, and let himself go, hoping for oblivion.

The harsh laughter of Doom destroyed Bismark's last ray of hope, however.

_You are mine, Vessel. When you awaken, you will be Bismark no longer. There will be only Cetus, slave to the vengeance in your heart. Now sleep, and dream only of Leviathan's blood..._

Bismark's last ember of life blinked out, and the cold world of Cocytus covered his soul.

Back in the waking world, the newly awakened Dune watched in confused silence as Bismark's body froze, then was covered in a cocoon of solid ice.

"Captain?" Dune said sluggishly, still trying to come to terms with his transformation and rebirth.

"Captain!" Dune reached for the frozen prison and tried to break Bismark free, but could not.

"What have I done...?" Dune said, looking through the clear ice at the wounds on Bismark's head and shoulder, and the pool of dried blood around his body. Those were claw marks. His claws.

Dune shook his head, trying to drive away the emotions that were threatening to overtake him. First Cassandra, now Captain Bismark. Who else would he betray? Who else would he kill? Images of Cassandra's horrible death filled his mind again, and he wept as he watched her die over and over at his hands.

"I can't..." Dune said, only half-aware of what he was doing. He shook his head slowly, still not willing to accept the reality of his new world. He looked again at Bismark's body, and saw his reflection in the ice. It was not his face staring back at him. There was only the demon Maduin now.

"I am a monster," Dune mumbled, grasping at his chest out of old habit. He found the gravity crystal still hanging there, still cold. But he found it had no power over him. It was just a rock now, a bitter memory of his own weakness.

"This is because of you!" Dune howled, ripping the dead crystal from his neck just as he had in the dream world. He threw it to the ground beside Bismark, but there was no purifying light here to destroy it. It clanked harmlessly against the hard floor of the building and lay there, silent.

Dune watched as it rolled away from him, and then he saw something else, just beside Bismark's prison of ice.

"What is this...?"

Dune reached down and picked up the glowing object. It was a string of eight pearls, larger than any he had ever seen. They each glowed faintly, except for the last one, which looked like an ordinary pearl.

When Dune picked it up he felt a surge of energy flow through his arm and straight into his chest. It felt warm, clean. It was the complete opposite of the power he had felt from the gravity crystal of Doom.

Without knowing exactly why, Dune took the string of pearls and tied them around his neck in place of the gravity crystal. There were no words, but it just felt right. Like it was meant for him.

The calming influence of the pearls cleared Dune's senses just enough for him to remember why he was here. One overpowering train of thought broke through the murky confusion of his mind pushing all his fears and doubts beneath its wake.

"...Mae...," he said with great effort, then, "Mae! I'm coming!"

Dune snapped to life and quickly took stock of what was happening around him. It was completely dark both inside the building and out, except for a growing red light. There was fire out there, and it was spreading. The storm was still raging out there as well.

Dune had no time to worry about what else might be beyond the front doors of his building. Mae was up above, not outside, he knew it. He rushed to the elevator with a burst of speed that took him by surprise. This monster's body was still new to him, and he almost launched himself head first into the elevator doors. With this speed, he didn't need an elevator...

Dune balanced himself awkwardly as he came to a halt in front of the elevator, and turned towards the stairwell. Hardly anyone used the stairs in the impossibly tall Narsillian buildings, but Dune felt the incredible strength in his new body, and he knew without thinking that he could reach the top floors faster this way.

With a burst of blue energy Dune flew into the stairwell and then shot straight up through the empty space inside the spiral of the staircase. The feeling was incredible! The speed and power stunned Dune as he rocketed upwards through the stairwell on a jet of blue, floor after floor flitting by like pages of a book.

Floor 25...Floor 40...Floor 72...Floor 96...Floor 132...Floor 168...Floor 200...Floor 256...Floor 345...

In less than a minute Dune had reached the top of the apartment building, over a mile away from the ground. He felt like he had run a mile, but the speed in which he had reached that distance was beyond anything he had ever thought possible by a human.

A cold weight fell on his heart as he remembered that he was no longer human. Not human at all. Would Mae recognize him? Would Mae accept him?

A faint pulse from the string of pearls around his neck brought him back to his primary goal. It didn't matter what had happened to him. Only Mae mattered. He would find her and save her, and there was nothing that would stand in his way this time.

Dune rapidly leaped from the stairwell into the hallways of floor 345, dashing straight for his apartment. There was no electricity in the building now , and Dune realized with amusement that he couldn't have taken the elevators even if he had wanted to. And he never would have found his way through the dark corridors without a light. It would have been impossible to reach Mae safely if he was just regular Dune.

But that didn't matter anymore. His newfound powers lit up the area around him like a ghostly torch, and the constant flashes of lightning outside flickered through the windows, giving him all the light he needed to navigate. He found his room in a few seconds, and once again had to stop himself from skidding directly into the door.

This was it. Dune took a deep breath and steadied himself, then knocked on the door. The knock was much louder than he had expected, and he had put a dent in the door as if he had punched it. This new strength of his was incredible, and incredibly dangerous. Thoughts of Cassandra and Bismark flashed into his mind again, and he struggled to push them away. He must control himself around Mae. If he hurt her like he had the others it would be more than he could bear.

Dune waited as patiently as he could for a sign of life from inside, but there was nothing. He knocked one more time, softer than before, and was relieved to see it sounded more like a normal knock this time. But there was still nothing. He thought he had head something moving inside after this knock, though.

"Mae! It's me, Dune! Are you in there?" Dune shouted in his very non-Dune voice. The sound of Maduin's voice speaking his words frightened him, and he knew it would terrify his wife. Opening his mouth had been a mistake.

He heard a yelp from inside after he had spoken, and knew it was Mae's. His heart leaped at the confirmation of Mae's presence inside. But what must she think is on the other side of this door now that he had spoken, and after that harsh first knock that must have sounded like a wild animal trying to break in?

There was nothing else to do but just break in. He knew the effect it would have on Mae, but time was short and she would never let him in willingly now.

"Mae, you have to trust me," Dune said as carefully and calmly as he could. "I am Dune, your husband. I'm coming in now, so stand back!"

Dune waited a moment, then pushed the door with the same strength he would have used to open it normally when he was human. As he suspected, the door fell inwards as if he had rammed it. He stepped into the room slowly, scanning it for signs of Mae.

The first thing he noticed was that the living room was still a chaotic mess, just as he had left it. The aftermath of his run-in with Cassandra was visible in every corner of the room. He must not let such senseless destruction happen again. Dune took deep breaths, and tried to slow his crazily beating heart.

"Mae? Where are you?" Dune said quietly, not wanting his rumbling voice to frighten her.

A flicker of movement from the corner caught Dune's eye and he saw his wife again for the first time in what seemed a lifetime.

Mae was crouched behind an overturned sofa, her eyes wide with fear, breathing rapidly like a scared animal. The long black hair that Dune had fallen in love with hung down in disheveled strands around her pale face, but she was just as beautiful to Dune as she had always been. This was his Mae, alright.

"Mae...it's me, Dune."

"Get back! Stay away from me you monster!" Mae's panicked voice piped, edging on hysteria.

"Mae! It's your husband! I know I look...different, but you have to trust me." Dune was also on the verge of hysterics, seeing his wife look at him with such fear and loathing. This was not going well.

"You're not Dune! Dune is dead! My husband is gone!" Mae cried, tears coming into her eyes.

"No! I am alive! Mae, listen to me!"

"Get away from me!" Mae screamed, throwing a lamp at Dune. The lamp shattered harmlessly off Dune's rock-hard skin. This only frightened the poor Mae further, and she scrambled back from her husband, towards the large window that overlooked the city below. The look in her eyes said that she would risk jumping to her certain death before letting him reach her with those claws and teeth.

"Mae...get away from the window," Dune pleaded. "You must believe me. I love you!"

Mae flinched at Dune's words, but the look of hysteria did not leave her face. She crawled closer to the wall-sized window, and threatened to throw herself against it.

"Stop!" Dune said, and without thinking rushed forward to stop her. Again he was amazed by his speed as he almost instantly appeared at Mae's side, grasping her with his claws. He remembered at the last second to only gently grip her, and despite her screams, he did not harm her.

"Let go! You are not my husband! Dune...help me!" Mae sobbed, breaking down completely in the monster's hold.

"I am sorry, Mae...for everything," Dune said sadly as he started to put her back down on the ground.

Just as Dune was getting ready to try and break through to his wife again, the whole building shook violently as if struck. Dune looked out through the window just in time to see a massive explosion of blue light scream away from the base of the building and deeper into the crumbling city.

"What was that?" Dune said as he caught himself from falling.

Suddenly, the room lurched violently to the side, and threatened to spill everything out through the window. Dune dodged the couch and other bits of furniture, protecting Mae as he moved away from the window. The furniture slammed into the window and shattered it, letting in a great gust of wind and rain from the furious storm outside.

"We have to leave, Mae! Please, trust me!" Dune tried, but Mae's eyes were shut tight, and Dune knew she was in shock. The floor shook dangerously beneath them and shuddered downwards several feet, and Dune knew it was about to collapse. Whatever that light had been, it must have taken out the foundation of the building. In a few moments, his apartment and home would fall to the earth, taking everything inside down with it in a chain reaction of devastation.

"Mae, trust me..." Dune said softly to his unresponsive wife, and catapulted himself straight out the broken window and into the howling storm. He was afraid for only a moment, then remembered the vast pool of energy inside him. He gathered his magical aura behind him and threw his body down and away from the dying building with as much force as he could control.

He fell alongside the crumbling tower in a graceful dive that was a gross mockery of the destruction happening right next to him. Great chunks of the structure broke apart and rained down around him as he fell, but nothing could harm him. He curled into a ball to protect the fragile Mae, and continued diving towards the ground far below. Loud explosions and twisting sounds of breaking metal accompanied his descent, but he knew as long as he maintained control, he could avoid any danger.

After several minutes that felt like a lifetime, Dune saw the ground approaching. There were fires everywhere now, and a growing cloud of blue mythril dust was obscuring the base of the building as it imploded in on itself. Dune took a deep breath and shot through the cloud of dust and veered away from the ground at the last moment, flying straight ahead as far as he could, then landing like a falling star a safe distance from his crumbling apartment.

He stood and watched as the great tower he had called home for so many years tumbled to the ground, a slain giant. So, it was gone. His home, his life, and even his captain. All gone, except for the one thing that truly mattered right now. He tore his gaze from his lost home and looked cautiously at Mae, still wrapped safely in his arms.

"Mae, I will save you..."

"Dune...where are you?" Mae said sleepily, only half-aware of what was happening now.

Dune sighed heavily, and started making his way towards the city's exit. There was nothing here for him now, and he wondered if any of his friends were still alive now. He would return to the city and search for his friends once Mae was safely away from all this destruction.

As Dune was escaping the dying city, he kept on the look out for any survivors, hoping to save at least some poor soul. But there was no one left now. Only bodies littered the streets, hundreds of them. The vast scale of the city's demise stunned Dune. So many lives lost, and he was unable to save any of them. He knew he was partially to blame for the events that had led to this nightmare, and the guilt was killing him with each dead body he passed. How could he ever atone for a sin this great?

"Please...help.." A weak voice said from somewhere in front of Dune. It was too dark to see anything from this distance, but Dune thought he recognized the voice. Whoever it was, he had to try to save them.

"I'm coming! Hold on!" Dune shouted, his voice still sounding cruel and bestial.

When Dune reached the source of the voice, he was shocked into silence at the sight before him. Kneeling as if in prayer, covered in blood up to his shoulders was a ghost-white man dressed in the garb of a doctor. There were dozens of dead or dying Narsillians all around him, and in his arms was a stunningly beautiful woman with golden hair. She was covered in blood as well, and looked dead.

"Please, anyone...help..." The man wailed, half out of his mind with grief and shock.

Dune walked up to the man, slowly, not wanting to frighten him. A mutilated body let out a frail final breath as he walked past, then died. The carnage here was unspeakable, and at it's center was this poor man, struggling to save the last bit of his city. He could see the signs of emergency triage all around the man, but it had done him no good. From the looks of things, the doctor was only able to save himself, despite what looked like a valiant effort to help the wounded around him.

The man looked up at Dune as he approached, his eyes wide with shock and anguish, blood and rain splattered across his face. Dune said nothing, in shock himself at the bloody sight before him. If Dune thought his own face looked like a demon, then this man was the devil himself. He had never seen such a vacant stare before, and it chilled his cold soul looking into those empty eyes.

The man looked slowly down at the body of the woman in his arms, then at the death around him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it noiselessly. If the sight of the monstrous Esper approaching him frightened him, he gave no sign.

"Why..." the man rasped, his dead eyes filling with tears. "Why, why, why..." He looked straight at Dune with his mad gaze.

_"Why...Why, God, why! Why is this happening?" _The man screamed until his voice broke, his tear- and blood-stained face raised up at Dune, looking at him, through him, and beyond him to the skies above, and into the black void of his forsaken God.

"I..I'm sorry.." Dune stuttered, feeling completely helpless before the cruel reality of this broken man.

The man's stare focused back from the abyss and now he saw Dune. Without letting go of the woman's body he stood up and approached the Esper with no fear.

"You...you did this..." He growled, half-feral. "You, you, you, you!" The man took several steps towards Dune, and Dune stepped back, real fear in his heart. This sad little man was no threat to him, but he was terrified of him all the same.

As the man closed in on Dune, a bolt of realization hit him. He knew who this poor soul was. This was Doctor Atma, the man who had cared for him when he had been injured in the Thanas, so long ago! Dune marveled at seeing this man here again, at this time.

"Dr. Atma! It's me, Dune! Dune Karn!" Dune said nervously as the madman moved closer to him.

"Dune...is dead," Atma said hollowly. "He's dead...Maria's dead...we're all dead here...dead, dead, dead.." he chanted.

"Please snap out of it Doctor! We're not dead yet, I can save you!" Dune pleaded. He was growing impatient as the sound of destruction rang in his ears. This place was not safe, and he had to hurry. He had to get Mae out of here, even if it meant leaving Atma behind.

"You, you, you! Dead, dead, dead!" Atma cackled, out of his mind. "Nothing to save! Maria's gone! The children, dead! We're all dead now! Hahahahaha!"

"Dammit..." Dune groaned, not knowing what to do. "C'mon!" He urged, trying to grab Atma in his free hand.

"Stay away!" Atma shouted viciously, slapping Dune's clawed hand away and still clutching the dead woman in his other arm. He drew blood when he struck Dune's outstretched claws, but the injury didn't faze him at all.

"Demon! Leave us! We're dead! There's nothing left here but death! I hate this world! Hate, hate, hate, hate!" Atma's voice trailed off into an unintelligible rush of curses and emotion, and he fell back to his knees and wept into the still chest of the woman.

"I..." Dune said.

_"Leave us!"_ The man screamed through his madness, no longer looking at anyone or anything but the blood-soaked woman in his blood-soaked arms.

Dune could not approach him without triggering a wild reaction, and he made the difficult decision to leave the tortured soul to his fate here, like he wanted. Perhaps death would be a welcome relief to the poor doctor.

"Atma...I am sorry, this is all my fault," Dune said quietly as he backed away from the gruesome scene.

Dune, haunted by what he had just witnessed, ran out of the city as fast as his incredible body could move him. He reached the great mythril gates in only a few minutes, and found another grisly scene awaiting him.

The crush of people here was phenomenal, and in their mad rush to leave the city they trampled over anything and anyone that was in front of them. There were tens of thousands of people pushing out of the city in a single great mass, and countless bodies were being thrown under the mindless march. Anyone who couldn't keep up, young or old, alive or dead, was crushed to a pulp beneath the never-ending avalanche of people leaving the city. Dune just wanted to cover his eyes and disappear, forgetting everything he was seeing. He could feel Atma's madness creeping up inside him as he watched the final last gasp of the great city of Narsille.

As Dune watched the cruel exodus, Mae stirred to life again in his arms.

"Mae? It's me, Dune. You're safe." Dune said softly, hoping beyond hope she would recognize him.

Mae looked dully up at her husband, and Dune knew in an instant that nothing had changed. Her eyes grew wide with fear and she thrashed wildly in his arms. Dune put her down quickly, afraid she would injure herself on his stone skin.

"Demon! Monster! You're not my husband! Dune is dead!" Mae wailed.

"Mae..."

"Get away from me!" She shouted, and turned to run away from him.

Dune reached out a hand to stop her, then stopped. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps her husband really was dead now. Dune wept silently as he stood his ground and watched Mae merge into the throng of people fleeing the city. Yes, Mae's husband was gone.

Dune continued watching Mae's figure until it had completely disappeared into the horde of people, waiting until he was confident that she would not get eaten by the massive collective she had thrown herself into willingly. Once she had vanished, Dune turned and headed back into the city, unsure of what he should do next. Mae was as safe as she could be, even if it meant he had to give her up.

"Why...?" Dune said, echoing Atma's futility. "Damn you! Damn you all!"

Dune shot his fist into the sky, and without intending to he fired a great shard of ice out into the darkness above. He had no idea how he had done it, but it felt good. He let his anger and despair flow over him again and fired another volley of ice upwards. He howled like the demon he appeared to be and laughed at his cruel fortune in the same breath.

While Dune raged at the heavens, a black wisp of smoke had started flowing at his feet. He stopped and looked down at the ground curiously. This smoke had been all over the ground as Dune had fled the city, but he had paid it no attention, and it had paid no attention to him, repelled by his magical aura. Now, though, it seemed like it was calling out to him. He felt something alive inside it as it mingled with his own aura.

"What are you?" Dune asked, not really expecting an answer.

_Join us..._

Dune leaped away from the gathering smoke at the sound of that voice inside his head. He knew that voice, or rather, voices. It was the voice of Sade, but more than that.

_Join us, Dune!_

Dune heard the strangely tripled voice, and recognized who they belonged to. It was Sade, but also Eva Dehr and Adam Cruz.

"Adam Cruz...Sade...Eva Dehr...? What..."

_Yes, we are no longer three, but one. We are Cruz, Sade, and Dehr...we are..._

Dune watched as the smoke swirled around him, trying to engulf him. He tried to fight the smoke with his own aura, but it was gathering faster than he could ward it off, and Dune watched helplessly as the smoke covered him in total blackness.

_We are..._

Dune felt his body being pulled downwards as the smoke echoed inside his mind. He fell straight through the cracked street and into the boiling underground world of Narsille's subterranean world, and was lost in despair, guilt, and rage.

_We are...Crusader! And you...you will be purified, Esper!_


	75. Dream's End, 'Unholy Union'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.12 - Unholy Union**

Dune felt the temperature of his cage of smoke rise as he descended into the inferno of Narsille's underground. Blind and deaf in his lightless prison, he could only guess where Sade was taking him. As a human, Dune was sure he would have been roasted alive in this hell, and no doubt the monster had done exactly that to countless other people trapped in his invisible web throughout the city streets. As an Esper infused with the power of the Master of Ice, Dune felt the blazing heat no more than he would a warm breeze. If Sade was hoping to defeat Dune this way, he would be disappointed.

Not that Dune cared one way or the other about his fate anymore. He had been sorely used by the gods in their war, and he wanted nothing more now than to disappear and be forgotten. He had lost his friends, his home, his very humanity, and now his wife to this lunacy, and Dune was tired of it all. As far as he was concerned, the man known as Dune Karn was dead. There was only the Esper, Maduin.

The temperature continued to soar as the minutes ticked on, and Dune wondered just what the limits on his body truly were. It felt like he was falling straight through a volcano, yet all was silent darkness. Just when he started to actually feel uncomfortably warm, the descent ceased, and all was still, quiet, and dark. The tripled voice of Sade - no, Crusader - pierced the darkness, and Dune knew he had arrived at his unknown destination.

_Welcome to the throne of Moloch, Esper of Chemosh. We are impressed you survived the descent, but this is where your journey ends. We had assumed the Flames of Dis would incinerate you, but it will be a pleasure cleansing you in the crucible of our own fire!_

Dune looked blankly at the black wall of smoke in front of him, not even trying to claw his way out. He expected some sort of attack like the explosion he had seen through the eyes of Maduin back on Crescent Island. If they unleashed that unstoppable force against him while he was trapped in here, he doubted there would be anything left of his wretched Esper body but ash. And would that be so bad?

_Do not lose hope!_

Dune heard the voice of Elia in his mind, and saw the string of pearls around his neck glow brighter. Hope...what hope was left for him in this city of the dying dreams?

_Let the Nacre guide you. As long as you believe, hope will survive. Believe, Dune...believe..._

The Nacre? Did she mean the pearls? He looked down at the softly shimmering necklace. The warmth he felt flowing from them was different from the oppressive heat that surrounded him. It felt like he was basking in the rays of sunlight on the shores of Elia's dream beach. It felt like peace. Like hope itself.

Holding the strange spheres of light in his hands, he felt like maybe there was something he could do. Thoughts of the things he had lost flashed through his mind's eye: the quiet moments alone with Mae in their apartment, the stern, yet fatherly gaze of Captain Bismark on his ship, even the strange shopkeeper and his little furry pet...all his friends and loved ones, they were all there. What would they say if he just gave up and died without a fight?

"Stop moping around and do something, ya bum!" Bismark's voice echoed from Dune's memories.

Dune couldn't help by smile at the thought of Bismark yelling at him from beyond the grave. Yes, the Captain would never just give up. He'd fight, and keep fighting until there was nothing left of him.

"Dune, I love you, but you really do worry me sometimes. Don't get yourself hurt, you hear me?" Mae's concerned voice joined Bismark's in Dune's memories.

Mae...she was gone from his world now, but she was still alive. She had waited for him beyond hope while others fled their homes. The husband she had fell in love with was not the man who had finally walked through their door, though. Dune didn't blame her for running from him, and if she could see him right now, as he really was, he knew she would want him to live. He may have given up on her, but she hadn't given up on him, and he suddenly felt he couldn't give up on himself either.

"Mae, I will live..." Dune said quietly, clutching the pearls in his clawed hands like a man in prayer.

White light burst from the pearls and filled him with a new feeling of power.

"Mae, Captain...I think I finally believe," Dune said, louder. The light shone brighter. He held the pearls in front of him, like an offering.

"Elia! I believe!" Dune shouted, a sense of purpose welling up inside him. The last ray of hope was not lost just yet, and Dune believed for the first time in his life. Not in magic or gods, but in the power of his own strength, of his own ability to shape the world around him. He would not be a puppet to other people's desires again. He was free.

And now the monster waiting outside would learn what freedom really meant.

Dune gripped the Nacre tight and sent his own boundless energy into it, holding nothing back. The pearls burned with holy light brighter than the sun, blinding Dune and tearing through the black barrier like paper. The light continued to grow, bathing everything in their purifying light. Dune could see nothing, but he heard the surprised roar of multiple beings just outside his rapidly dissolving cage.

Once the wall of smoke had been blown away, Dune halted the flow of energy into the Nacre to see what was waiting for him on the other side. He opened his eyes as the brilliant light faded, and saw a sight both strangely familiar and intensely foreign.

Dune stood in what had formerly been the central hall of the Order's underground sanctuary. Sade had transformed the once immaculately sculpted hall into a vision of pure chaos. No longer were there the towering pillars lining the walls with their visions of warring angels and demons carved into them. The grand arches of the ceiling from which the opulent chandeliers had hung were gone, as was the red carpet on its vast floor of pristine marble. All the former majesty of the cathedral-sized room had been burned away in the fiery furnace of Sade's wonton destruction of Narsille's secret underground world.

Now, the walls and ceiling were solidified lava, cooled into twisted, flowing patterns of lumpy black rock. Thin veins of glowing magma criss-crossed the lava's surface, pulsing with a fiery essence from the molten core at the end of the room. The room had seemed alive with a flowing divine energy before, but now that flow had turned into a crimson nightmare.

Where the mighty statue of the winged deity that Dune now knew to be Altimus had once stood was now a new statue, carved from the melted rock that made up the entirety of the new hall. This new dark god was a fearsome sight, and filled Dune with none of the peaceful or sagacious intent of the former statue. Its four great eagle's wings were now a pair of cruel vulture's wings, inviting death and despair. In place of the long robes of a priest were the familiar sharp angles of armor plating that Dune had seen under Sade's robes, complete with the fiendish face carved into the abdomen. Flames glowed from the creases in the sculpted armor, as well as from the eye slits in the great horned helmet the statue wore. In the demon statue's hands was not the judging scimitars of Altimus, but a giant executioner's axe, ready to exact vengeance on all who dared oppose the God of Fire, Moloch, the Vengeful Poltergeist. For Sade's unseen Master was who this statue must surely depict, in all his unstoppable wrath.

The vibrant red carpet on which the statue had rested was now a path of twin yellow flames that led straight up to where the Pearl of Order had once rested peacefully on its dais. Now, there was only an exposed pool of magma, flowing outwards and filling the cavern with its demon's fire. In front of this beating heart of flame stood the hulking Esper form of Sade himself, still stunned by the outburst of light from Dune. On either side of the armored fiend stood two creatures as silent and unmoving as the statue of Moloch in the center of the room. Dehr and Cruz, the other two members of the unholy triad that called itself Crusader.

Like Sade, they both wore copper-hued armor now, each giving off their own red aura. Dehr's armor fit her form like an exquisite warrior princess, making her a surprisingly beautiful vision of destruction. Her face was a deathly white, with no emotion visible on it as she stood silently by Sade's side. Her hair had gone from the tightly pinned dark brown to a wildly flowing gold halo, matching her armor. Behind her flowed a regal cape of gold, untouched by the intense heat around her. Even though she was now Sade's slave, she still gave off the queenly air of command that she had strived to attain as a human.

The once portly and unassuming Cruz had been transformed into a skeletal horror that would have instantly earned him the intimidation he had so craved in his former life. Unlike Sade and Dehr, his armor did not cover most of his form. Instead, the randomly exposed bones of his new body glowed with the ruddy color of the other's armor, and were likely just as hard. Curled around his lower half was a long tail, making him look more bestial than human. He now had four arms, but two of them were grossly disproportioned and ended in a deadly set of blades instead of hands. The other two arms were normal sized, and crossed his broad chest in a statement of arrogance and superiority he had never had as the weak, fat subordinate to the President.

Of the three beings that made up the Crusader triad, Cruz had gone through the most striking transformation. His intense loathing of his own weak body in life had given him the formidable demon warrior guise he now wore as an Esper. But like Dehr, that power had come at the cost of his own individuality. Neither Dehr nor Cruz made a single movement or thought without the central Sade in this frightful union. Their wills had been absorbed by Sade's overwhelming influence, and the three now thought and acted as one being.

Somewhere deep inside the consciousness of Crusader, Dehr's and Cruz's individual psyches twisted and turned in naked horror in the face of the true mind of their former comrade. They were now privy to all Sade's deepest hate-filled desires and machinations, and their fear and weakness were completely exposed to Sade's brutal presence. The two trapped souls lived an existence of perpetual futility and fear, watching themselves bend to Sade's every command, both loving and hating the power they had succumbed to so willingly.

And now these three twisted forms stared at Dune as one malevolent Esper, waiting to see what he would do next.

Dune took in his new surroundings grimly, noting that there were several dozen dead bodies of Order priests lying on the scorched surface of the hall. These bodies had been brought here intact and unharmed, protected from the flames of Moloch's throne. Why? Some sort of offering? Whatever Sade was planning, Dune was going to put a stop to it, right here.

"Sade!" Dune said in a loud voice, filled with all the strength he could find within himself. "I won't let you take my homeland so easily!"

The central form of Sade laughed a thick, choking laugh. "What is left of your precious homeland, Esper? I have already claimed Narsille for Moloch. Its complete purification is inevitable now."

"This land is still my home, no matter what you do to it, Sade," Dune said defiantly. "I will fight you for every last stone!"

"Your insolence is tiresome," Sade rumbled from within his armored body. "You cannot stand against the combined might of Crusader here, on the very throne of Moloch! We will purify you, and then you will join our Master's flesh."

"Join him?" Dune said, wondering what Sade's plan really was.

"Pathetic that the Herald of Chemosh does not even know his own Master's plans," Sade said with a flicker of disdain in his glowing eyes. "Our Masters wish to rule over the mortal realm, and require mortal bodies to inhabit. That statue you see before you is the vessel that our Master will possess when the ritual is complete."

"I am no one's Herald now!" Dune yelled.

"Oh? And yet here you are, ready to die for the very cause you were created for. You are a weapon of war, born only to fight, and so that is what you choose to do now, even freed from Chemosh's hold. The Master of Ice chose well in you, Esper." Sade said as he laughed at Dune's fate.

"It is my choice to fight you, Sade! I am free to fight for what I believe in now, and not merely as a tool in your schemes." Dune said, angered at the thought of still being controlled.

"It does not matter what you believe," Sade replied. "The ritual has begun. I have shared my essence with the female essence of Dehr, and the spark of a pureblood Esper soul has been passed to the statue, creating the necessary vessel. It is only a matter of sacrificing flesh until the body is fully formed, and the rebirth of the Master of Fire will be complete."

Dune did not understand what Sade was saying, but as if to answer his unspoken confusion, the grim statue of the Master of Fire gave off a powerful wave of evil energy, bulging and pulsing as if alive. A harsh voice scraped across Dune's mind as the wave washed over him.

_Chemosh's children are a stubborn, prideful breed, just like their creator. My Herald, kill this infidel quickly, so that the ritual of my rebirth may be completed on schedule. His body will nourish me far more than these feeble humans._

Dune's body trembled at the presence that swept over it, but he would not be intimidated anymore. His days of letting Sade manipulate him were at an end.

"You can't control me, Sade!" Dune said angrily, then turning his head to the living statue, "And neither can you! Doom has no power over me anymore, and I will not submit to you either!"

"You dare speak to the Master of Fire in those tones?" Sade seethed. "Once the ritual is complete and his purified body is whole, he will rule over you and your world. Kneel before your God!"

Sade rushed at Dune in a fireball of rage, threatening to crush him with the full force of his gigantic frame. Dune barely had time to dodge to the side, even with his enhanced Esper reflexes. Despite his size, Sade was fast, very fast.

"Dehr! Cruz! Seize him!" Sade shouted as he stopped himself halfway down the hall. Without a word, the two twisted forms of Dehr and Cruz moved to flank their prey.

Dune roared and let his anger wash over him. He felt the cold surge of magic flow through him again, and aimed two large boulders of solid ice at the fast approaching slaves. Dehr gracefully spiraled out of the way of the first shot as if she were gliding on a current of air, but Cruz's slower body took the second shot straight in the chest and toppled backwards.

Neither Esper said a word, but kept coming towards him, relentless servants of Moloch. Dune tried to attack again, but he found he couldn't. It was not easy using the magical energies of his new body in such a focused way yet. These monsters had given themselves completely over to their Master, and were far better at controlling their powers than he.

As Dune stood with his arms ineffectually raised against the oncoming attackers, Dehr pulled from her armor a sharp blade made of the same golden material, and Cruz unsheathed a similar weapon from his side. They both struck at Dune's hands with the points of their blades simultaneously, impaling his hands straight through and dragging him across the hall towards the statue of Moloch. He found himself pinioned against the statue and cried out in pain at seeing his seemingly impervious skin pierced so easily.

He struggled to free himself, but it was no use. The strange blades kept him trapped and his magical energies sealed, a defenseless morsel to be consumed by Moloch.

"Now, you will join us, Dune," Sade said gleefully as he approached Dune. The flames inside his armor flared up in anticipation of this grand sacrifice. A Herald joining with his Master! This would greatly accelerate the tedious process of flesh-binding. Instead of the required thousands of weak human bodies, it would only take perhaps this one Esper of Chemosh!

"Sade, you don't know what you're doing," Dune said as he tried to pull himself free from the wicked blades. Glowing blue blood seeped from the wounds in his hands, reminding him again just how far from human he was.

"I know exactly what I'm doing, worm," Sade said with surprising anger. "I once stood in this very hall and prayed to a false God, hoping for salvation. Instead I was granted deception and death! Well now I grant the deceivers death, and all who allowed their lie to continue for so many generations." Sade spat what looked a drop of melting blood at the ground as he spoke. "I will have my revenge on this world, no matter what it costs me! I have no fear of death anymore, Esper."

Dune knew it was impossible to reason with Sade. His was consumed with dreams of revenge, and had dragged countless innocent lives down with him into his own personal hell. Now, Dune saw that he would be the next victim in Sade's holy war against humanity. But surely there must be some weakness to this monster that had once been a man?

_I am his weakness, son of Silas..._

Dune heard the faint voice deep inside his soul, deeper than the voice of Elia. It was so far away, so fragile, but it was there, clinging to the life energy he had received from Captain Bismark, and that Bismark had received from his father. But who...

_I am Sade, and yet I am not. I am what was left of his humanity, given to your father and then passed onto his friend. Now a small piece of what was once good and human in Sade resides in you, son of Silas. I am Jehad._

Dune was dumb-founded at hearing this foreign voice inside his head, but it did bear a slight resemblance to Sade's voice, albeit much younger and more gentle. If this was Sade, could he trust it?

_I am not Sade! Believe in me, for I am the only weapon you have against this foe._

Dune listened to the voice of Jehad in stunned silence, watching as Sade approached with an evil glint inside the visor of his helm. What weapon could this tiny spark of life hold?

_Sade gained his current power in exchange for his humanity. My fear of death was the only thing holding him back from a true union with the terrible power of the Vengeful Master. Once he conquered the last part of me that dwelled in his soul, he was truly invincible, a fully formed Esper of Moloch. Now, by a strange twist of fate, a piece of me still remains in you, Dune! Use the Nacre and show Sade his own fear once again! Don't let my hopes and dreams die in the hollow shell of that monster..._

It was hard to fathom how he had come this point, but there was nothing left to do but believe in this ghost of a dead man. Dune looked straight at Sade as his massive bulk filled Dune's vision, and smiled his feral grin.

"Something amusing, Esper?" Sade said as he reached out to offer Dune to his Master.

"I will show you fear," Dune said in a low voice as Sade lowered his lofty head to Dune's face.

"What?" Sade said without care, his internal fires licking at Dune's face.

Dune closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on the Nacre still around his neck. He saw in his mind's eye a man in a white robe he had never seen before, but who he instinctively knew must be Jehad. How far this poor soul had fallen! But now, it was Dune's duty to help what was left of this man's humanity atone for the sins he had unleashed on the world.

"Say hello to Jehad for me, Sade."

"W-what!" Sade said in surprise, his attention coming into sharp focus at the mention of his human name, long buried.

Dune tensed his entire body against the blades in his palms and threw all of Jehad's life, dreams, and hopes into the Nacre's glowing orbs. The pearls flared brightly, and then the energy fused into a single ray of light that shot out from the central pearl, directly into the opening in Sade's helmet.

"Grah! What is this!" Sade wailed, grabbing at his face. The forms of Dehr and Cruz looked at each other, realizing that for this brief moment they were no longer under Sade's control.

"No! Get away from me! I destroyed you! I fear nothing!" Sade bellowed, stumbling away from the statue in agony and, unbelievably, fear.

"Dune, we are sorry it had to come to this." Dehr said in the strangely angelic voice of her Esper body.

"I wanted power, but not this kind of power..." Cruz said sadly, an odd attempt at a frown covering his skull-like face.

The two momentarily freed Espers grabbed the blades trapping Dune and pulled them free, then stepped back in shamed silence.

"This will not stop him, Dune." Dehr said somberly as she watched Sade struggle with his lost humanity all over again. "He beat Jehad before, and he will again. And not only that but..."

"YOU...SCUM!" Sade roared, trying to maintain control over himself. "This is not over! Let's see you use that toy against this! Dehr, Cruz, come!"

Dune watched as the tragically brief flicker of awareness faded from the two slave's faces, and they were Crusader again.

"I will have my revenge!" Sade said savagely as he clawed at the white light still filling his helmet. Then the three Espers were gone. The black smoke-form whirled erratically, then vanished into the cracks in the charred walls.

Dune rubbed his wounded hands carefully, hoping it was finally over. He still felt the evil presence of Moloch from the statue behind him, but its power was silent, for the moment. He had no sooner breathed a sigh of relief when the ground began to shake violently. Was Sade creating another earthquake?

No...there was something terribly different about this quake. Dune felt an immense magical aura rising from beneath him, faster than he would have thought possible through solid rock. The shaking intensified, threatening to bring down the entire hallway. Dune knew something was coming, and tried to escape the room before whatever it was surfaced, but found that the fiendish lair had no entrance or exit. It was just a pocket of empty space inside the sea of molten rock Sade had unleashed under Narsille.

As Dune stumbled away from where he felt the tremendous energy, the ground exploded in a rain of rocks, ash, and lava. A huge dust cloud obscured his vision, but Dune could see glowing lights flickering through the haze. It looked like some sort of machine had drilled its way up through the earth, but there was nothing below this place...

Then Dune saw something that almost defied explanation as the dust settled. It _was _a machine, but not like anything he had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. At first glance it looked almost like the giant mobile fortress, the Figaro, but how was that possible? As Dune looked on wonder, he realized it was built vaguely in the shape of a man. An enormous central body flanked by two curving towers that functioned as arms or legs was rising from the giant hole. Intricate turrets and spinnerets covered its back like the many spires of a classic Order church, giving the strange creation the look of a giant mechanical cathedral or castle. Where the head might have rested was a flat visor-like aperture, firmly shut. What on earth had Sade sent after him?

In response to his gaze, the shut visor slowly opened, exhaling a white mist that might have been steam, or a man's breath. Inside the opening Dune saw a bright white light. An eye? Dune had no idea.

The eye-light turned towards Dune with a vaguely life-like movement and now Dune saw something else inside the opening. A large black globe was lodged firmly inside the visor area, just behind the searching light. The globe began to glow a deep red as if it were being heated from the inside of the mechanical monstrosity.

"Who...what are you?" Dune shouted up at the head-like protrusion high above him. Perhaps he could communicate with it. Dehr and Cruz had broken free of Sade's control for a moment, so maybe there was a chance for this strange fusion of machine and magic.

A grinding sound from deep within the outer shell of the creation echoed upwards and out of the opening, like an old recording machine. It sounded mechanical, but had slight human intonations.

"Flee or perish, enemy of Moloch." The voice sounded vacant and lifeless.

"I can help you! Are you an Esper?" Dune asked, wondering if such a thing as a mechanical Esper was even possible.

"I...am...Alex...ander...," The robotic voice replied on command. "Flee or perish, enemy of Moloch." It repeated in the same tone as before.

Dune almost fell backwards onto the burning ground at the name. "Alex? Alex Figaro?"

"Alex Figaro is gone. I am only the Esper Alexander. I warn you one last time - Flee or perish, enemy of Moloch." The black globe behind his single glowing eye turned from red to orange as he spoke his warning a third time.

Dune did not know what to do. If this was Alex, then he couldn't fight against him, could he? Dune couldn't leave his friend behind, though! There had to be some way...

Before Dune could find a solution to this new problem, the aperture opened wider, revealing the full sight of the glowing globe inside the Esper's visor. Dune had just enough time to register total shock at seeing the Pearl of Order glowing white hot inside Alexander before he was overwhelmed by an amazingly powerful burst of holy light that consumed the entire hall in its divine judgment.


	76. Dream's End, 'The Unstoppable Cetus'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.13 - The Unstoppable Cetus**

The only thoughts that filled Bismark's mind as he awoke to the mortal world for the second time were blood-tinted thoughts of revenge. He came back to life in an explosion of confusion and anger, only half-aware of where he was and what he was doing. One thought kept racing through his head more than any other, threatening to drive him truly insane with rage.

_Kill Levi. Kill the Leviathan._

Dimly aware that he no longer needed his legs to move at all, Bismark simply _willed_ his body forward, letting his wild emotions direct him where they may. His senses were disorientingly foreign, and everything seemed smaller as he thrust his massive body straight into the blackness ahead of him. There was a slight sensation of colliding with something hard and cold as he flung himself into the sky, but nothing would stand in the way of his wrath.

_Good... Seek out the Herald of Astarte. Let your raw hatred guide you, my Cetus._

Bismark heard the distant voice of Doom inside his head, and grunted in anger as he flew through the sky on a wave of watery energy. His memories were a painful blur, but that voice filled him with a loathing he couldn't explain. And that was not his name, he was sure of it.

"...I am...Bismark..."

It was a struggle to form coherent thoughts, and even harder to actually speak through lips that felt far larger than he remembered. His voice sounded oddly muffled, as if he was speaking through a thick veil. What was happening to him?

_You are Cetus, a vessel of Chemosh! _The voice of Doom growled angrily inside Bismark's head.

It hurt when the foul voice spoke, and Bismark felt a harsh pull on his soul that only increased his overwhelming urge to destroy. But he would not let himself be controlled so easily. He knew something terrible had happened to him, but he was still Captain Mobius Bismark. And this monster goading him on was going to know it.

"No...! I am...Bismark!" He shouted as loud as he could, pushing away the red haze from his senses a tiny bit. A cold fury at being defied filled Bismark's being with pain, but he stood his ground and used every last ounce of strength that was still his own to maintain his identity.

As his vision cleared in his moment of lucidity, Bismark saw that he really was flying through the skies above Narsille. A bright blue light surrounded him, but he could not see his body. It felt so heavy and awkward, as if he was a great boat that needed constant adjusting to stay upright. One thing was certain, his body was no longer his own.

Prodding Bismark forward relentlessly was that unquenchable desire to find Levi and kill him. The electric essence of Leviathan's power drew him deeper into the city, guiding him in an ever-increasing spiral of hate like a ship caught in a whirlpool.

_You will fight for me, Cetus. That unstoppable will of yours will serve my ends, one way or another._

"No!" Bismark flailed, drowning in his bloodlust, but fighting all the way down. "I am the captain of my own ship!"

_No matter. The will of Chemosh will consume you eventually, Captain. Fight against me all you like, it only fuels the negative energies of Cetus, and brings you closer to me, to your Doom!_

Doom's voice was filled with haughty laughter, and despite an immense effort, Bismark knew he was right. The whirlwind of emotion that was clouding his mind was a constant struggle, and it was only a matter of time before it would exhaust him. Then he truly would be Cetus. Until that moment, though, he would fight this false god with all his being.

"I am...Captain Bismark..." Bismark said thickly, the red-tinted fog of destructive influence coming over him again. "I must kill Levi!"

Doom's faraway voice continued to laugh, confident he would win this struggle of wills. It was only a matter of time.

Bismark's blind rage continued to pull him like a baited fish through the city's stormy skies. Towering blue buildings swerved in and out of his vision as he soared through the dark faster and faster. The watery energy he felt welling up inside him grew as his murderous rage grew, pushing him towards his goal without mercy. Levi's essence crackled closer and closer, and in a moment Bismark would reach the beast that had become the center of his world now. Soon...

_Levi! I'm coming for you! _Bismark's thoughts swam in the murky sea of his mind. _Levi..._

_"LEEEEVIIII!" _He roared as the serpentine form of Leviathan rose up before him, coiled malevolently atop one the mythril towers.

The watery energy growing inside him burst like a tidal wave, and washed over all rational thought. The only thoughts left in Bismark's mind were images of ripping his hated rival to pieces. He could hear the sound of rushing water fill his ears as he let himself go, and it was like music. It was the timeless song of the sea, but its notes were only of destruction in the hands of Cetus, the Demon Whale.

For that was what Bismark had become. As he closed the distance between him and Levi, he could see his great form reflected in the glowing fish eye of a very surprised Leviathan. His body was now the body of a ghostly white whale, as massive as Leviathan's twisted form, but only half as long. This was the body of the Esper Cetus, created for one purpose - annihilating the Esper Leviathan.

Without slowing down or paying attention to anything around him, Bismark let his mighty girth slam into Levi, knocking the Esper off balance and sending the two of them tumbling downwards over the side of the building.

_Yes! Destroy the Herald of Astarte, my Cetus, and claim this realm for your Master!_

"I am...Bismark!" Bismark's invincible spirit raged through the sea of destructive energy that was engulfing him. The force of this power was unfathomable, but Bismark was determined to keep himself amidst the chaos of his new existence. Doom could not win.

"What?" Leviathan gasped in shock as he writhed against Bismark's onslaught. "Bismark? Impossible!"

"I will destroy you, Levi!" Bismark snarled, turning his fish-like body away from Leviathan and swooping in for another strike. Before Leviathan could regain his balance, Bismark struck the Esper hard, sending the two of them into the side of the building. The tower wavered, but took the blow. There was a huge cracked depression in the building's side shaped like a giant fist had struck it, but the mythril frame remained intact, for the moment.

Leviathan twisted away from Bismark and tried to wrap himself around the wide whale's body, but Bismark was too enraged. Every time he tried to trap Bismark, the maddened Esper would bellow in rage and break free with nothing but brute strength. Leviathan may have been larger, but the unbridled fury emanating from the rival Esper was unmatchable. No matter how hard he fought back, Leviathan kept finding himself overwhelmed by the sheer will of his hated enemy. Such humiliating weakness infuriated the proud Herald of the Goddess. He was the most powerful being alive! How was this creature overpowering him?

"Feel the power of the Goddess, insect!" Levi screeched, pulling away from Bismark's relentless attacks. He let loose a wave of lightning from his black eye, hoping to paralyze the crazed Esper. The branching bolts struck Bismark and he recoiled in obvious pain, but nothing would stop him. Again he simply shook off the attack and charged straight at Leviathan, sending them both back towards the shaken tower.

This time, their combined force smashed through the thick walls and destroyed everything inside, emerging on the other side of the building in a shower of glass and rubble. The entire roof of the building collapsed, leaving a smoldering crown of destruction at the tower's peak.

Bismark felt a distant pain as broken glass and chunks of metal and mythril gouged his blubbery new skin, but he continued to push against Leviathan, against the pain. With each blow he felt stronger, but less in control of his thoughts and actions. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain his sense of self the longer the fight dragged on, but he had to keep going. Levi must pay for his crimes, even if it cost Bismark everything. Levi must die.

_Keep fighting, Cetus. Keep fighting until there is nothing left but the blood of your enemies and the endless flood of your hate!_

Bismark tried to shake Doom's voice away, but it was too strong now. Another spasm of raw emotion rippled through him, and he felt a new surge of that watery energy deep inside him. He rushed at Leviathan again, cloaked in a foamy barrier of conjured water. What was this power? It was frightening and wild, and the more he fought with Leviathan, the stronger it became.

"Levi!" Bismark yelled again in mindless rage.

"Bismark!" Leviathan roared back, raising himself up like a snake ready to strike. He saw the wall of water racing towards him, and could do nothing but summon his own wave of water to meet it. "You are no match for the Lord of the Sea!"

A giant wave materialized from the rain behind Leviathan and flowed around and over him, rushing towards the charging Bismark. The two magical juggernauts collided, sending a bubbling shockwave of mist and foam through the air. Leviathan watched as the two waves smashed and churned against each other, expecting his adversary to be ground to pieces in the violent collision. His gruesome jaw lowered in horror as the shape of Bismark slowly pushed through the maelstrom, his one good eye glowing with a cold blue light that struck the first chord of real fear into Leviathan's heart since he became an Esper.

_This was not happening!_

"Damn you, Bismark! I will not fall to you!" Leviathan tried to move his cumbersome body out of Bismark's path, but it was just too long and his enemy was just too fast. Leviathan cried out in pain at the sharp blades of water that cut into the end of his tail as Bismark passed him. "No! I will survive! Come to me, my servants!"

Bismark rushed past Leviathan in his watery charge, and felt the satisfying slice as his blow connected with the monster's tail. But before he could turn to continue his rampage, two shadowy forms appeared on either side of him. One of them raised a ghostly hand towards Bismark as if to hold him down. Suddenly, he felt heavy, even heavier than his giant whale's body should have been. And it was getting heavier. What was this pale new arrival doing to him?

"Grrrah!" Bismark rumbled, barely able to speak through his seething hatred anymore. His body was beginning to fall as the massive weight on him continued to grow. It was as if the very air was pushing him down.

"Phantom! Increase your gravity field! Do not let him escape!" Leviathan yelled out to his ephemeral Esper ally, struggling to regain his composure and hide his fear. Bismark's rage may have given him the edge in a one-on-one fight, but Leviathan had the advantage of numbers, and one more surprise he knew would stop the old fool in his tracks. The prideful Leviathan did not like resorting to his Esper servants like this, but he would not be defeated when he was so close to gaining everything he had ever dreamed of.

Bismark fought against the invisible pressure surrounding him, growing angrier with each foot he descended away from Leviathan. Again his unstoppable rage rose up inside him and burst outwards, and again he felt the growing abyss creep closer to his own soul. He would keep fighting, though. Nothing would stop him from exacting his revenge. At the end of this battle, Cetus may be the only thing left, and at this point, Bismark no longer cared.

"Phantom...!" Leviathan groaned with renewed fear. Bismark was no longer sinking down into the depths of the burning city, and was unbelievably rising back towards the battlefield. "What are you doing! Subdue him!"

But the Demon Whale could not be stopped. Bismark struggled upwards, swimming through the unseen magical energy that kept pushing him down. His body felt like it weighed as much as the moons themselves, but he focused his thoughts on defeating Leviathan, further narrowing his own self-awareness.

_Yes, yes! Soon now, there will be only Cetus... _Doom's voice echoed in Bismark's head, closer than ever.

_...Bis..mark... _This was all Bismark could force his failing mind to grasp. He held onto that name with everything that was still his own, but he felt his grasp weakening with each passing minute. Doom may win in the end, but Levi would not. That was all that mattered.

"Grrr...Phantom don't stop casting!" Leviathan commanded his servant as he turned to face the other unknown Esper that had appeared beside Bismark. "Now, my bride, put this mindless animal under my control!"

The other Esper came into view, pouncing on Bismark with razor sharp claws. It looked like a monstrous black cat as large as a person, but still tiny compared to the giant Bismark. There was a wild look in the cat's eyes that matched the madness in Bismark's fierce stare look for look. As the feline Esper dug into the whale's thick back, a strange look of confusion stole across Bismark's face.

"Yes, use the power I gave you!" Leviathan said with renewed confidence. "How do you like my lovely pet, Bismark? Even you cannot resist the allure of Cait Sith!"

Bismark struggled now with a new force inside his mind. The power of Doom faded slightly, and the hypnotic presence of Cait Sith invaded his thoughts. He thrashed against the cloudy influence stealing over his thoughts, but found he was helpless against this new enemy. In an impotent rage, his body spun around senselessly, resuming its slow descent into the ruined city. A sea of flames lit the streets below, threatening to incinerate Bismark if he fell too far.

_Kill...Levi...must...kill...kill...kill..._

"LEVI!" Bismark howled, letting himself go completely to the maddening urge inside him. He had no choice, Levi must be destroyed. With one final push, he let himself drown in the power of the Demon Whale Cetus.

Pain wracked his body as he twisted himself backwards, striking his own body mercilessly with his wide tail fin. Blue blood poured from the self-inflicted gash, but power returned to his limbs, and he felt the seductive embrace of Cait Sith release him. The cat yowled in frustration as it was flung from Bismark's broad back, but did not try and attack again. Bismark had struck fear into this small Esper just as surely as he had the mighty Leviathan.

"You worthless cat! How dare you shrink away from the enemy!" Leviathan shouted at his poor Esper slave, once again baffled by the strength of his opponent's will. There was only one thing left to do, then. "Don't think you've won yet!"

Leviathan let loose from his eye a single bolt of lightning upwards into the storm clouds high above, then grinned maliciously at the steadily approaching Bismark. The billowing tendrils of darkness swirled away from where his bolt had entered the mass of clouds, revealing a hidden figure hovering among the flashes of lightning. It looked like an old man with a long, flowing beard. He wore the regal-looking blue robes of a judge and in his hand he held a wooden staff high, calling the storm to himself.

"Come, Ramuh! Show our friend your thunder!" Leviathan said gleefully. "Does this new foe look familiar, Bismark? Do you not see the face of your dear friend Professor Indra in the ancient face of Ramuh? You may dream of killing me, but can you fight against a comrade with the same intensity?" Leviathan laughed as he watched Bismark's snarl of hate turn to a pain-filled grimace.

"Strike him down!" Leviathan shouted savagely at his servant. Ramuh obediently raised his staff higher, then slashed the electrified air in front of him, pointing the weapon directly at his former friend. A massive surge of lightning erupted from the gleaming tip of his staff and raced erratically down towards the stunned Bismark.

Bismark's body convulsed in agony as the lightning struck him. There was nothing he could do but squirm helplessly as the power of Ramuh filled him with pain. He felt the oppressive force of Phantom's strange gravity-altering power on him again, and could not stay aloft. But he would not give in, even now. His bloodlust was beyond his control now, and even with the face of his old friend staring down at him in silent judgment, he could not stay the demonic power he had unleashed.

_There are too many for you alone, my Cetus. We will regroup and return with an army of Espers. For now, flee. Flee, I say!_

Bismark heard the voice of Doom in his mind, but the urge to destroy was stronger. Disobeying his Master, Bismark continued to struggle against Phantom's pull and Ramuh's might. The pain was excruciating, and he felt like his body was being crushed against its own weight, but there was no stopping his rage. He must destroy everything. Levi must die!

Bismark felt fresh new pain as Cait Sith landed on the wound he had made in his back and once more tried to control his thoughts. There was almost no mind to control now, unfortunately for the small Esper, so she resorted to slashing at his open wound with her sharp cat's claws, sending rivulets of blue blood soaring into the sky. But Bismark bucked and twisted, resisting every hypnotic thought and every painful slash. Even against Ramuh, Phantom, and Cait Sith, the Demon Whale would not be defeated. Not until Levi was dead at his feet.

_Flee! I command you! You are outmatched! _Doom said in futility.

"I have you now, Bismark," Leviathan said with a murderous gleam in his eyes as he watched all three of his servants combine their strength to take down the impossibly stubborn Esper. Not wanting to miss his chance to land the killing blow on his hated rival, Leviathan glided down to where Bismark was desperately trying to hold his position. When the mighty Esper's strength was exhausted, Leviathan would swoop in and finish him off before the flames of Sade below could snatch his prey from him. This would be a victory for the Goddess, not for the Poltergeist.

_Damn you for deserting me, Maduin... _Doom raged hopelessly in Bismark's crimson-stained mind._ I must have a new Herald or my vessels are nothing more than mindless beasts. Cetus, you WILL obey me! But I must find another Herald to control you... _Doom's voice faded to silence, and for a brief moment Bismark was free from his Master's control.

Being free from Doom's presence sadly no longer matter to the possessed Bismark. He had succumbed to the violence that had always resided inside his heart, and was now acting out of pure hate and wild anger, with no hope of salvation in sight. Leviathan rushed towards him and whipped his body with the tattered feathery tail Bismark had ravaged previously. The sound of Leviathan's heartless laughter filled Bismark's ears as he was tortured on all sides from the four Espers of Astarte. With ever lash of Leviathan's powerful tail, Bismark grew even more incensed, blind with rage. He had to fight, and would keep fighting until his battered body was torn to pieces, as much by his own violence as that of his torturers.

As Bismark's mind began to fade and his indomitable spirit finally ebb, the cold fingers of Doom crept back into his soul, more powerful than ever before. There was a new strength in them, one that was impossible to ignore. His voice was everywhere inside Bismark's dying mind, and he had no choice but to listen.

_I have found my new Herald, my hate-filled vessel. He is a mighty soul, indeed, worthy of the title Herald of Chemosh! Do you feel his power flowing through you? Such is the power of a Herald, the sole conduit through which my power may flow unhindered into this world and into my servants within it! And now you WILL obey my voice, Cetus! Flee this place! I command you!_

Bismark gave a guttural howl as his will was forcefully lead away from his single-minded obsession. He suddenly dropped out of the sky, giving in to the full power of Phantom's influence, and momentarily breaking free from the assault of the other three enemy Espers. Before they could understand his strange act, a gush of water shot out from below, spreading into a thick mist that obscured their vision. Bismark, under the control of Doom, rocketed away from the battlefield, fighting against his own body for every inch. The last thing he heard was the defeated roar of Leviathan as his victory was snatched away from him.

It was no use to struggle, and Bismark submitted to the irresistible presence of Doom inside him. Cetus was in full control now, and Bismark only a faint glimmer of willpower clinging to the side of the mighty whale, like some helpless barnacle.

_I am Bismark. _Bismark said weakly inside his own mind.

"I am Cetus." The great Demon Whale spoke aloud.

_You are a vessel of Chemosh, Esper. Never forget that. _Doom said with a resounding presence inside Bismark's being.

Bismark watched helplessly as he put more and more distance between himself and Leviathan's forces. He would have his revenge someday. It was all he had left now. That, and the persistent hope that his remaining friends would somehow find a way to free him from this prison of his own making.

_You will have your revenge, my Cetus, but you will never have your freedom. _Doom spoke in his mind, almost pleasantly. _This is only the first battle in the war. We have lost today, but with my new Herald we will regroup and make a stand again soon. And then, Leviathan will be yours to unleash the full power of your hate upon! For now, we go south, away from this fiery realm. There the next battle in the war of the gods shall be waged, and this time, we will emerge victorious!_

Bismark did not understand his Master's words, but he knew where Cetus was going now, and was filled with a renewed sense of loss at the familiar sight ahead of him. The Maiden of the Sea sat loyally in the tumultuous harbor on the edge of Narsille, waiting for its captain to return. What did that fiend have in mind? Would he be forced to slay his own crew and destroy his beloved Maiden? Bismark felt that was exactly what he deserved for letting his emotions control him, and resigned himself to the consequences of his actions.

Doom had other plans for his vessel's former ship and crew, however.

_These will be the first recruits in the army of Chemosh. Now, command them, Bismark. You are still their captain, and they will listen to you as surely as you must listen to me._

_No...I cannot... _Bismark moaned, appalled at the thought of dragging even more innocent victims into his web of disgrace.

"Maiden!" Bismark's deep Esper voice boomed across the waters, startling the frantic crew.

They were finished preparing the boat, and were only waiting for some sign that any of their friends had survived to return to them. The sight of a flying white whale was the last thing they had expected to see emerge from the flaming city. And several crew members recognized that voice as their Captain, despite the Esper's distortion. First among them was Connor, the acting captain while the Bismark and Alex were away. He had no idea what had happened to their Captain, but that was his voice, and Bismark's voice was always obeyed, even in the face of certain death. They trusted their Captain, absolutely.

"It's your captain! I'm Captain Bismark! Ready the anchors, we leave immediately!" Cetus said in a cruel mockery of Bismark's voice. It was a convincing performance, and despite his appearance, the crew listened to their transformed captain the same as they had before.

Cetus was only an extension of Bismark himself, after all, and he knew everything Bismark knew. Cetus was the embodiment of all the negative emotion inside Bismark, but with the dominating influence of Doom and his mysterious new Herald, that raging emotion could be controlled and directed. And now, Doom was directing the Esper Cetus to usurp Bismark's ship and take it into yet another blood-soaked battleground. He called out to Elia, but he could only hear the voice of Doom now. Bismark cried out in despair as he watched his faithful crew follow him into the mouth of hell yet again.

And follow him they did, quickly raising the anchors and setting sail at full speed down the Lethe River with only a few sorrowful glances back at the city and friends they knew they were leaving behind. They listened to every order he gave through the mouth of Cetus without hesitation, not knowing where they were headed or why. They did this because he was their Captain, now and forever.


	77. Dream's End, 'The Fallen'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.14 - The Fallen**

As Draco flew through the burning skies of Narsille on the wings of Genju, he wondered just what had saved them from what would almost certainly have been a torturous demise at the hands, or jaws, of Leviathan. Genju had called the blazing blue light an Esper of Chemosh. There was only one Esper of Chemosh in Draco's newly gained knowledge of the forces whirling around him.

"Was that Dune?" Draco asked the somewhat sullen Genju. The loss of Kite and ensuing clash of Espers had severely dampened the brief window of hopefulness that Genju had shown before.

"No..." Genju said hesitantly. "At least, I do not think it was. I felt the power of Chemosh, surely, but the aura of that beast was one of boundless rage, different from what I felt from Dune."

Draco gazed out over the steadily growing sea of fire that was engulfing the city. A faint glowing trail of phantom dust still hung in the air where the mystery Esper had screamed past. The Esper had come from further out, close to where Dune, Captain Bismark, and Indie said they were headed back on the Maiden.

"If it wasn't Dune, who was it?" Draco wondered what had become of the others, assuming the worst as the city fell apart beneath him.

"It pains me to say it, but that feeling of aggression is similar to what I felt from Captain Bismark." Genju shook his head in dismay. "I fear another of our companions has fallen prey to the influence of the Fallen Masters."

"The Captain? That...thing?" Draco said, his heart sinking at the thought of another loss.

"Perhaps...but if that is Captain Bismark, what has happened to Dune? And Indra?" Genju said sadly, already knowing the truth in his heart.

"There's only one way to find out," Draco said as firmly as he could. "We follow that trail back to where it came from."

"Madness!" Genju said shortly. "We must flee this wretched place before it is consumed by the warring of the Fallen Masters and their Esper soldiers. There is no hope of saving this city now."

"No!" Draco shouted. "We _will_ find the rest of our friends! If they are out there, stranded like we were, I won't leave them behind."

Genju sighed, knowing the mind and heart of his companion all too well. "If we stay here much longer, we will surely perish." Genju stopped and looked around him for moment, then continued. "But I fear we will perish no matter where we go, sooner or later. I can follow this trail of magical energy if that is what you truly desire, but I must warn you that it will most likely end in ruin."

"I don't care," Draco snapped back. He was growing tired of Genju's lack of resolve. "If there is a chance one of our friends is at the trail's end, then that's our next destination."

"Very well." Genju sighed again, and adjusted his course to follow the fading blue line.

It wasn't long before the two arrived at the source of the unknown Esper's trail. As Genju had predicted, it was a scene of ruin. Where there had once been a massive gleaming tower of mythril, there was now nothing but a pile of faintly glowing blue rubble, at least a hundred feet high. The site was eerily silent, like a giant's tomb. There were no survivors to be seen.

All manner of debris filled the area, from jutting lengths of blackened metal to the occasional piece of furniture or appliance, adding a tragically human touch to the loss here. In the distance, but crawling ever closer, were the uncontrolled fires from the heart of the city, spreading an oily red hue over the area as they fanned outwards in all directions. Every so often the ponderous grinding of another building falling to its death could be heard in the distance over the rain and thunder of the storm.

"This is horrible," Draco said quietly, wondering how many more people had died senselessly here. Each one of these incomprehensibly tall buildings could house an entire town of Jidorikians.

"I definitely sense Dune's presence here, as well as the other Esper. I'm almost positive it was Captain Bismark." Genju said, watching Draco pick through the rubble. "Both are gone now, and I sense no other magical energies here. We should continue this foolish search elsewhere."

Draco wasn't listening to Genju's tired words. He had tuned out the faithless Esper's voice as soon as he began digging through the mountainous heap. Genju was a staunch ally, but he was too quick to give up on what might seem to be a lost cause at first glance. Draco had learned on the bloody battlefields of West Jidorik that if there was one thing humans excelled at, it was surviving.

His thoughts wandered fondly back to the two soldiers who had bravely fought to their dying breath for their homeland, for _his_ homeland. Despite all odds, Biggs and Wedge had survived long enough for Draco to find them, and rescue them. And they had returned the favor, fighting courageously to protect both himself and Maria during the West's counterattack. If Draco had given up on that last day of fighting as soon as he saw his forces cut down around him, thinking as Genju did that there was no hope, he would not be here now.

No, he knew all too well what Genju would think of this situation, so he ignored the Esper's speeches. Draco would make sure there was nothing left here to save before moving on. He would not let another life be lost while he stood by and watched, or passed on in silence.

"There is nothing here, Draco." Genju intoned impatiently, but not without respect for the man's efforts. "You are wasting time we do not have on a pointless exercise. I sense another trail of magical energy in this direction. It must be Dune's. We may be able to catch up with him if we leave this place now."

Deaf to the ancient Esper's words, Draco continued digging through the wreckage. He felt a growing certainty that there was something important still buried here. Something that he needed to find. He couldn't explain it, but it felt like someone was calling out to him from deep beneath the rubble. The call was reaching directly into his mind, silently urging him to keep digging, keep searching. There were no words, only feelings, but it was a powerful force that Draco could not ignore. Someone was definitely buried here, and Draco would not stop until he found the source of that call. He would not leave anyone behind. Just a little bit more...

"Draco! We must leave this place!" Genju said insistently, his voice growing more impatient as Draco continued to ignore his voice. Draco was throwing chunks of rock and metal aside like a man possessed, and Genju couldn't think what was driving the poor human to work so hard for such a futile gesture. Behind him, Genju could feel the relentless heat of the fire closing in on their location. If Draco didn't heed his words soon, he would have to use force, which he loathed absolutely.

Just when Genju was about to bodily snatch Draco away from his mad search, the man jumped up from the pile and began walking towards him. His golden armor was covered in glittering mythril dust and black soot, but he seemed oddly calm despite his ruffled appearance. Had he found someone? The grim look on his face said no, but the way he had suddenly stopped said something else.

"Let's go," Draco said heavily, brushing the grime of the building off his armor. "You win, old man. There's no one here, and we need to find where Dune went. Those flames will reach us any minute."

Genju looked at his companion closely, but said nothing. Draco had finally come to his senses, and that was good enough for him. Genju felt the familiar cold aura of Dune all around them, and it would be easy to follow the Esper's path. He still had misgivings about Dune's state of mind, and the appearance of another Esper of Chemosh only heightened his suspicions.

Without another word, Genju picked Draco up and followed the second almost invisible trail of blue dust away from the fallen tower. This trail lead even further away from the center of the city, and thankfully, further away from the encroaching wall of fire. Where had Dune gone? Had he decided to flee the city as well?

As the two retraced Dune's steps, they soon came across another grisly scene. This time, there was definitely a survivor, but neither Draco nor Genju were sure if there was anyone left to save here.

Alone amidst a sea of bodies was a blood-soaked man, cradling a woman's body. He rocked the body back and forth, as if it were a child he was putting to sleep. The man was obviously insane with grief, howling mindlessly at the carnage around him between sobs. Was this all that was left of Narsille's people?

As the man turned his head to the two intruders on his misery, the ever-present red glow of the fires reflected off his sunken eyes, making him look more like a demon than a human. If he felt any surprise or relief at the sight of the armor-clad Draco and the winged Genju, he did not show it. There was only the abyssal gaze of a man who was utterly lost.

Draco stepped forward to try and help the poor man, but stopped cold when he noticed the woman in his arms. His heart started racing as he stepped closer, trying to make out the features through the dirt and blood that covered her face. Seeing Draco's intense interest in the woman, the crazed man clutched her tight and turned away from the interloper, a look of deep hate and mistrust on his face.

But Draco had seen the impossible truth, here in this madman's arms, and in his eyes. The golden hair and soft face he had dreamed about, had once caressed, woken up next to, and fallen asleep beside, was now dank and lifeless, stained almost beyond recognition. It was impossible, utterly, absolutely impossible. She was not supposed to be here! Could this truly be the fate of the beloved Star of the West? Impossible..._impossible!_

But reality could not be ignored, and with a maddeningly beating heart and dumbstruck mind Draco rushed at the filthy foreigner, pushing him aside. The man let out a surprised grunt of protest, but was no match for the furious movements of Draco. Draco cupped the woman's face with his hand, gently turning her gaze to his. Again, the sharp pang of recognition sent a wave of sickness through Draco's body. Those startlingly blue eyes that stared back at him lifelessly could be no one else's. Why was she here, and why was she in the arms of this stranger?

Anger and sadness rising up inside him, Draco turned to look at the frantic man huddling just out of his reach, eyes darting in every direction, hands clutching the air in vain.

"Why!" Draco cried out in pain and confusion. "What did you do to her? Why is she here?"

Draco laid his wife down lovingly, straightening her tattered robe and wiping away as much grime and blood as he could. With blinding speed he stood up and wheeled around to within an inch of the crazed man, a look of cold hate in his eyes. His hand was already on his sword.

"Explain yourself, man!" Draco screamed, his sword arm shaking dangerously as it gripped the Scion in its scabbard.

"Dead, dead, dead! All dead!" The man cackled. "Maria's dead! Children dead! I'm dead, too! Hahahaha..." The man's wailing voice trailed off into a sob as he lurched away drunkenly from Draco's menacing presence.

Draco winced at the sound of his wife's name on the lips of this lunatic, his sword arm pulling the sword further out of its scabbard.

"Draco, wait!" Genju bellowed, trying to avoid more bloodshed. He did not know who the woman was, but it was obvious that Draco did. This was not good. "Calm yourself! We mustn't engage in petty brawls now!"

Draco turned on Genju savagely, whipping his sword out as he did. The tip of the blade was pointed directly between the Esper's deep-set eyes. There was a look of madness in the man's eyes that Genju knew all too well.

"Stay back, Esper! I will have justice!" Draco raged, his body shaking, but his sword arm completely still.

Genju did not flinch from the threat. "There is no justice in senseless murder. This woman's death must not lead to more death. As a king of men, surely you can see the broader path! Do not succumb to the violence in your heart, Draco!"

But Draco would not be swayed from his bloody thoughts. "That is my wife! My child!" Draco lowered his deadly blade for a second, then turned it back on the madman. "You! What have you done to Maria!"

The man reached out his bloody hands towards the prostrate body of Maria, as if trying to will her back to life. The agony on his face was matched only by the agony on Draco's.

"Gone! She's gone!" The man shook his head wildly, his disheveled grey hair half-covering his eyes. Tears streaked down his begrimed face, leaving trails in the dirt and blood. "I tried to save her! I tried! Gone! Everything gone!"

Draco's voice was implacable, immovable. "You tried to save her from _what?_ Speak!" The tip of his sword wavered lethally just a hair's breadth from the other man's face. "Who did this?"

"Not me! Not me!" The man moaned, his eyes following the trembling tip of the blade. There was no fear of death in the man's eyes, only an empty sort of curiosity. He held out his hands in supplication, as if to say "Look! My hands are clean!"

Draco saw a gruesome gash on one of the man's hands as he waved them in front of him, still wet with fresh blood. The cut curved over the back of his right hand in a nearly complete circular arc. It looked like the claw mark of some beast.

Draco lowered his sword and seized the wounded hand, looking fiercely at its owner. "Who did this? _Who did this?"_ Draco's voice was like ice.

The man pulled his hand free of Draco's iron grip and held it close to his chest. "Not me! Not me! All his fault! All Dune's fault! Dune, Dune, Dune!" The man continued gibbering incoherently, holding his hand and slowly backing away from Draco.

Draco stepped back in stunned silence at the mention of Dune. A thousand thoughts jostled for dominance in Draco's blood-tinted head as he tried to make sense of this unthinkable situation he now found himself in. Dune? _Dune?_

"Where is he?" Draco spat venomously at the cowering man. He took a step forward, his sword raised again. There was no control in his sword arm now, and his arm shook as violently as the rest of his body. He knew he couldn't trust that monster. He knew Dune was dangerous, but he was fooled by the blind faith his friends had in him. From the beginning Draco had come to this place to hunt down Dune Karn, and now that was his mission once again. The man had murdered Cassandra, and now...!

The thought was too much for Draco, and he let the Scion fall, tears of rage and sorrow falling along with it. He dropped to his knees beside his wife and buried his face in her chest, overcome with emotion. Dune would pay for this. Draco would not leave this city without the head of that beast.

Seeing the confusing display of unbridled anger and grief that mirrored his own, the stranger stepped forward cautiously, not sure of how to react. But as soon as he got within range of the couple, the Scion flashed between them, almost slicing his nose off.

"Be gone!" Draco growled between wracking sobs, not even lifting his head to see where he was aiming his weapon.

The man jumped back and squealed like a frightened animal. He took one last blood-shot look at the dead body of his sweet, innocent Maria, then scampered off erratically into the flaming hell that was surrounding the area. This world was his home now. It was a senseless world of powerlessness, pain, and hate. But so much hate! How he hated this world!

"Hate, hate, hate, hate!" he screamed at the top of his lungs as he danced madly among the flames, vanishing into the crimson-hued darkness.

Draco remained rooted to Maria's side, unable to will himself to move. He could hear the sound of Genju's damnable voice buzzing in the background, but nothing could reach him. As he drowned in his own grief, he felt someone reach out and touch him. It was not Genju, but some other presence. It was a cold touch, and oddly familiar. Something was calling out to him, promising him peace of mind, and justice for his slain family. Without thinking, Draco reached for the strange object he had found in the rubble earlier...

Genju watched stoically as Draco grieved over his wife, unaware of the hidden presence beside the warrior, whispering irresistible promises to the shattered man. This scene was one that was painfully familiar to the ancient Esper. He was lost in his own memories of the sacrifice of his own beloved wife millennia ago. How many centuries had it been since he had last seen the woman he had pledged his almost eternal life to? But he still felt her in his heart, dying repeated deaths over the eons, being brought back to life only to die again.

Unlike Draco's Maria, Genju's wife was in fact still alive, but forever out of his reach. His wife had willingly allowed herself to become the very first sacrifice to the Balance. Now he silently bore witness over the eons to the never-ending cycle of death and rebirth of his love, of the eternal Phoenix. How many times had he felt her death across the seas, deep in his place of exile? What had she done to deserve such a fate? What had this poor woman done to die in a place like this? What had any of them done to deserve the wretched fate of the gods?

Deep in his own thoughts, Genju did not notice Draco's change in behavior as the cold presence stole over him. Draco stood up quietly and looked out over the horizon, his gaze as cold as the body of his wife.

"We have to find Dune." Draco said with surprising calmness.

Genju shook himself from his reverie and looked at Draco. Had the man finally come to terms with the situation? He knew it was impossibly hard to move past what had happened, but he also knew that there was little time left to grieve, if they wanted to find Dune and escape.

"I agree. I do not know what has happened to Dune, but his trail continues towards the exit. We must go." Genju straightened out his wings as he prepared to leave.

"No." Draco said confidently. "Dune has not left the city." Draco lifted his sword and pointed it back towards the inner city, now nothing but a towering blaze. "He is there."

"How do you know that?" Genju said, alarms going off in his head. Something was wrong with his companion. Had his grief taken his mind, like it had that other man?

But Genju never had a chance to confront Draco. A searing blast of white light exploded from deep inside the flaming heart of Narsille, its brilliance outshining all the fire and lightning in the city. The burning light rose high into the sky, sending disintegrating pieces of earth and metal floating into the air before melting them away. The blinding radiance covered a wide portion of the inner city, as if an entire block had just been vaporized in a single terrific blast.

Genju felt an undeniable presence from the explosion, and for a moment completely forgot about Draco's strange actions.

"The Pearl..." Genju trailed off, baffled by what he was feeling.

"Dune is there." Draco repeated, still pointing his sword towards the glowing cauldron of white light.

Genju blinked, then rushed towards Draco, speaking rapidly. "That was the Pearl of Order's energy! If it is still whole, we must retrieve it! But what has happened to it? The Pearl is not a weapon!"

Genju went to grab Draco while he spoke, but the man waved the Esper off.

"No. You go. I need to stay here by my wife's side. I will be here when you return."

Genju did not like the way Draco was talking, but there was no ignoring the cry of pain coming from the semi-aware Pearl. It was as if his own child were being tortured.

"As you wish," Genju said reluctantly, but hurriedly. "I must save the Pearl, and perhaps Dune as well. Be safe, and do not hesitate to leave if it becomes too dangerous." Genju spared one last look at the woman at Draco's feet. "I am truly sorry for your loss, Draco. But do not let grief and anger consume you! That was the path I chose once, and now the world must pay for my weakness. Stay strong, Draco!"

Genju lifted his powerful wings, then pushed himself skyward to follow the ache in his own heart as his precious Pearl was twisted against its will. He did not hear Draco's final words, or perhaps he would have stayed his flight.

"No, Dune is mine," Draco said with quiet firmness just out of Genju's range of hearing. "He will pay for his crimes." Draco gripped his sword tightly in one hand, and the jet black crystal in his other. The Dragon of the West would not fail in exacting his justice on the murdering demon who had destroyed all his hopes and dreams in one cruel swipe. The Scion would taste the blood of an Esper one more time before this nightmarish day was over.

As Draco lost himself to his blood-soaked dreams of retribution, a cold voice echoed from within his weary mind.

_We shall have our revenge, my Herald. Now, sleep, and when you awaken, you shall unleash the true fury of the Dragon of the West on my former servant. The world shall forever tremble at the might of the Dragon King, Bahamut!_


	78. Dream's End, 'Esper Battle'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.15 - Esper Battle**

_Am I dead?_

Dune opened his eyes groggily, not sure what was happening. The last image he had before the incredible light overwhelmed him was the Pearl of Order, glowing from within the mechanical monstrosity that Alex had become. He had focused his energy into a frozen aura of protection as soon as he saw the flash, but it had been too late. Or so he thought.

Dune blinked hard, trying to see through the fog of near-blindness from Alexander's attack. At first, all Dune could see was red. As his eyesight returned to normal, Dune realized he was no longer below ground, but floating high above the city. Below him, Narsille was awash with the flames of Moloch. Several new fire pits had opened up throughout the city, spewing all-consuming lava down the deserted streets. The intense heat and flickering red light emanating from the burning city almost made Dune forget he was above ground at all. Only the ever-present storm above reminded Dune that he was not still trapped in the infernal Narsillian underworld.

"Where am I?" Dune said dully, not sure if he was safe or in even greater danger than before. He could see the gaping chasm where he had miraculously escaped, now exposed to the surface by the blast of Alexander's attack. The ominous form of Alexander still towered like a silent guardian at the center of the hole, motionless.

"Are you really Dune?"

Dune turned his head sharply upwards, and stared right into the wizened face of Genju. There was a look of pain on the ancient Esper's face, mixed with an accusing look of suspicion. Four strong hands grasped Dune tightly, perhaps too tightly. Was this his rescuer or his captor?

"I ask you again, Esper of Chemosh! Are you Dune?" Genju's voice was full of anger, and his grip grew even tighter. Amazingly, Dune actually felt pain as the old man's hands dug into his hard skin.

"I am no longer an Esper of Chemosh," Dune stumbled, scared about what this powerful being might do to him if he was found to be untrustworthy. He knew he had much to answer for. Maduin's actions were his actions, no matter how much Dune wanted to separate the Esper from the man.

"I do sense a new light in you, but do not think that I trust you," Genju said in measured tones. His grip loosened slightly.

"I...I'm sorry for what I've done while under Doom's influence. I will never let myself be controlled again, I swear it."

Genju looked at Dune for another tense moment, then turned his piercing stare to where Alexander patiently waited in his newly formed valley.

"That...perversion, what is it?" Now Genju's anger was palpable.

"It's Alex Figaro. He's an Esper now, too," Dune said sadly. How many more of his friends would be lost in this pointless struggle?

"Alex Figaro?" Genju gasped, stunned. "I sense the Pearl of Order from within him. What has that demon Moloch done?"

Dune did not know what exactly had happened to Alex or the Pearl, but it seemed they now were joined as one powerfully destructive force.

As if to answer Genju's question, Alexander's featureless visor of a face robotically turned to face Genju and Dune, its intent impossible to gauge. When the visor lowered and revealed the hotly glowing Pearl, however, Dune tugged hard at Genju's robe.

"We've got to move, now! It's firing again!" Dune yelled, trying to pull the confused Genju out of the path of the oncoming beam.

Genju realized what was happening at the last second, plummeting downwards to avoid being seared by the tremendous wave of holy energy coming from Alexander. Just above their heads, the white light spread out like a newborn sun, filling the darkened skies with a flare of false daylight.

"To see the Pearl turned to such devious ends breaks my heart," Genju said as he wheeled around to get behind Alexander. "We must retrieve it somehow."

"What would happen to Alex?" Dune asked.

"The Pearl and your friend are now one being, one Esper. I suspect it would be fatal to forcefully remove the Pearl, but..." Genju wavered, but continued approaching the slow moving Alexander from behind.

"I can't let you do that!" Dune cried. "I am going to save Alex, and if that means sacrificing the Pearl, then so be it!"

Dune yanked himself free from Genju and struggled before alighting on his own field of magical energy. Flight was not as easy for Dune as it was for the naturally winged Genju, but he would not just sit there dangling like a rag doll while Genju threatened his friend.

"What are you doing? We must save the Pearl!" Genju spluttered, surprised by Dune's sudden vehemence.

"No, we must save Alex!"

Dune and Genju grappled with each other, each of them trying to subdue the other while they flew closer to where Alexander patiently stood his ground.

"This is pointless! We must not fight each other!" Genju pleaded, trying desperately to pull Dune off him. The man fought wildly, but Genju did not want to hurt him. Violence was never the solution, but if it was a choice between an Esper of Moloch and his precious Pearl, Genju knew where his loyalties lay. He did not want to attack Alex, but the Pearl must be freed at all costs.

Dune continued to thrash and claw at Genju, heedless of the Esper's words. He was caught up in his own passionate desire to save his friend, and was letting his power flow freely, and dangerously. Genju was holding back, but Dune was pouring all of his power into trying to stop the Esper from reaching Alex. And he was succeeding. Genju was being battered backwards, too afraid to use force against Dune.

Just as Dune was losing himself to his own power, the Nacre around his neck began to pulse, sending waves of calmness flowing through him. Immediately Dune was aware of what he was doing and let go of Genju and looked away, ashamed. He had let his power consume him again, and almost destroyed another life in the process. He had to try harder to control this newfound power of his!

"I've done it again..." Dune mumbled.

Genju stopped his pursuit of the Pearl and peered at the Nacre resting peacefully around Dune's neck, a new look of hope spreading across his face. "You wear the Nacre? But where did you find it?"

"It was on the ground next to Captain Bismark when I regained control of my body." Dune said simply.

"You will have to explain what happened to your group after you left the Maiden, but not now," Genju said quickly, wordlessly forgiving Dune for his lapse. He knew all too well the intoxicating influence of magic. "For now, we have the Nacre, and with it we may be able to save your friend, and perhaps the Pearl as well! Come!

Genju and Dune, together in purpose again, began to descend towards Alexander, who was now laboriously twisting his hulking mass around to face his assailants. Before they could reach him, though, another explosion rocked the surrounding area, hurtling the two almost directly into the flames below. One of the great mythril towers nearby tumbled to the ground with a roar of sound. It had been struck by an unknown blast of energy, and instantly crumbled under the immense force.

"Was that Alex?" Dune said, recovering himself before he fell further into the seething cauldron of Narsille's streets.

"No...that was..." Genju started, but never finished. Another fearsome roar of sound stopped him, but this was the roar of some mighty beast, not of a falling tower. Genju and Dune turned in unison at the source of the feral outburst, and were both shocked into silence at the sight before them.

Flying on leathery wings high above them was a beast straight out of legend. There was no denying the thick scales, reptilian body and tail, and cruel fangs, talons, and horns. This was the mythical dragon made real by the incomprehensible power of magic. Its horn-rimmed eyes burned with a blue intensity that bore the unmistakable mark of the Master of Ice. Another Esper had been awakened, this time lifted from the deepest nightmares of countless adventurers.

Grasped securely in one of the dragon Esper's clawed feet was another surprise. The beast held the body of a woman in a vice-like grip. She appeared unconscious, or dead. But even so, her shining beauty was a stark contrast to the dark malevolence that held her.

"Draco...what have you done?" Genju managed, appalled at seeing yet another mortal consumed by the irresistible power of the gods.

"I am Bahamut, the Dragon of the West reborn!" Draco's guttural voice echoed from the lips of the dragon. "Give Dune to me, Genju!"

"No!" Genju shouted desperately. "You are still Draco! Look inside yourself and fight the negative feelings that are controlling you! Stay strong, Draco!"

In answer to Genju's pleas, the dragon spread its black wings wide and opened its mouth as if to roar. But instead of sound, a harsh blue light began to swirl deep in the Esper's throat. Wisps of raw magic licked the corners of his mouth as the light rose past his sharp teeth and expanded in front of him.

"He's going to attack!" Dune shouted, seeing too late a grim replay of his initial encounter with Alexander. He tried to push Genju out of the way, only to realize the dragon's fury was aimed solely at himself. A solid sphere of pure magical power slammed into Dune and knocked him tumbling out of the skies. The force behind the concentrated attack had been intense, and Dune felt his cold blood flow from where the blast had struck him.

"Dune!" Genju yelled, diving after him. Genju knew what must be going on in Draco's mind. He was probably blaming Dune for the death of Maria. Of course! Chemosh would play into that hate like the skilled manipulator of the human heart that he was, forcing Draco to fight under him in endless battle against the other gods. Just like Bismark's mindless assault on Leviathan, now Draco would be a slave to his negative emotions, and Dune was his target.

Genju had to save Dune from this insanity somehow. They were the only two free wills left in this battle, and if Dune fell, Genju would be forced to don the mantle of Warrior King once again. No! He would never allow himself to fall to violence again! Let the gods have their war, he would find another path to salvation. His soul depended on it.

Genju snatched Dune's body from the air, flirting with the tips of the flames before rising up to meet Draco. he took a wary glance at the immobile Alexander, fearing another attack while he was defenseless. The mountainous creation was silent, studying the unfolding events with cold detachment.

"Give the murderer to me!" Draco's voice tore through the air as he dived towards Genju. He would not be denied the satisfaction of exacting his judgment on this heinous fiend. Maria was dead, and his child inside her dead as well. This final battle was all he had left, and he would not falter.

In his clawed hand Draco still held the Scion, although the great sword looked like a small knife compared to the massive body of Bahamut he now wore like armor. With the sword of his ancestors he would destroy the destroyer of his family line. The blood of the ancient Christophes screamed out for justice from inside Draco and the sword responded in kind. Magical energy from within Bahamut was channeled into the mortal-sized sword, wrapping the crystal blade in a thick blue sheath and greatly extending its power. Now the Scion shown gloriously, an ultimate weapon of destruction befitting the Dragon King. If only he had had this kind of power against Leviathan, perhaps he could have saved Kite, perhaps he could have reached Maria in time...

_My Herald, I revel in your hatred and rage. You are my finest servant, and will serve me well in our future battles. Obliterate the traitor quickly, and you shall be rewarded with your heart's desire..._

Draco heard the arrogant voice of Doom inside his head as he lunged towards the defenseless Genju, but did not know what he meant. There was only one desire in his heart now, and he needed no one's help to achieve it! Dune would die in just a few moments, and then...then what would be left for Draco? He was a doomed man without a future, and he knew it.

_This is not so. _Doom responded, reading Draco's thoughts._ Do you not feel the pulse of life in your very grasp? Do not believe the feeble mortal senses, for they are blind and ignorant to the deepest powers of the universe. Your Maria still lives, and you can save her!_

Draco was so stunned by Doom's words he halted his plunge in mid-air, stopping abruptly a few dozen feet from Genju and Dune.

"Tell me how I can save her! _Now!_" Draco commanded out loud, ignoring his fight with Genju and Dune.

_Aaahh...you must do my will first, my Herald._ Doom crooned. _Kill the traitor Dune! Only then can you save your lovely wife and her precious burden._

But the unbreakable will of Draco would not be coerced. He had the blood of kings flowing through his veins, and even as a servant of Chemosh, there were limits to what he would endure.

"I will seek justice on my own terms! If I can save Maria, then you will tell me how, or you will never command me again!" Draco roared. He had allowed himself to be brought this far, but his love for Maria was more than his lust for Dune's head. He would not be controlled in this.

_You dare command a god! _

Doom's voice howled through Draco's mind, causing him to cringe in pain. But he did not bend. He would not bend. "I dare it!" Draco said in the voice of a king.

The bolt of hate-filled energy that assaulted Draco's mind sent him swerving wildly away from the baffled Genju and recovering Dune. He growled in intense agony, letting out giant blue spheres of magical energy from his twisted jaws as he fought the battle within himself. Several more towers were struck with his uncontrolled attacks, each one collapsing like a house of cards. One of the deadly flares of magic hit the still motionless Alexander, rousing it from its neutral position.

"We must flee this insanity!" Genju shouted over the raging Bahamut and grinding Alexander. Soon the two forces would clash, and there would be nothing left of Narsille but ashes.

Dune nodded in agreement, realizing just how far the war of the gods had come. It was beyond either of them to stop alone. The best they could hope for would be the mutual destruction of their foes, and perhaps something left of the world to rebuild afterwards.

"Let's get out of here," Dune said with effort, still in pain from the wound in his side. He hovered next to Genju shakily, but determined not to be burden. Leaving Alex behind was not something he wanted to do, but he was quickly running out of options.

The two looked at the slowly widening visor of Alexander and the maniacal twisting of Bahamut, watching for an opening to escape. They started to fly away from the two mad Espers down the only safe avenue of retreat, but were stopped by a sudden flash of lightning.

"Where do you think you're going?"

It was the last voice either of them wanted to hear at this critical moment. It was the heartless voice of Leviathan, echoing down from above them. Barring their path directly ahead was the form of an old man, floating on a crackling aura of electricity. Dune recognized the familiar face of his old shopkeeper in the that silent presence.

"Indie? Have they gotten to you, too?" Dune wailed, further from hope than he had ever been. Too many of his friends had been dragged into this war, and he could have stopped it, if only he had been strong enough to fight Doom. Draco was fighting the fiend on his own right now, so why had Dune been so weak?

"Dune...we are trapped," Genju whispered from his side.

"Now, Ramuh, show these insects the power of the Goddess," Leviathan's voice flowed from the clouds just beyond where his Esper servant waited.

"Indie! It's me, Dune! Snap out of it!" Dune shouted over the rumbling of thunder accompanying his old friend.

The once talkative Indie said nothing, and only looked at the two with a piercing stare of harsh judgment. Leviathan revealed himself just behind Ramuh, out of the reach of the other Espers, and nodded at his servant to attack. Ramuh raised the long staff in his hand, and gathered the lightning to him, readying a massive bolt to strike down the two hapless Espers caught in his trap.

But Leviathan's forces were not immune to the chaos of the battlefield around them. Alexander fired another beam of holy light into the skies, narrowly missing the careening Bahamut. The light blinded the gathered Espers, forcing Ramuh's blow to veer off target.

Before Leviathan could order Ramuh to mount another attack, Alexander unexpectedly released another blast. The mighty guardian of Sade's stronghold was fully roused now, and he would not be stopped until the intruders that had infested his Master's realm were exterminated.

"Flee or perish..." Alexander's toneless mechanical voice resounded through the air like a clarion.

High above where the other Espers were engaging in furious combat, Bahamut was beginning to regain control of himself. Maria still dangled from his claws, a sure sign that Draco was still the ruler of his own heart. He would not let her fall, as long as there was any power in his body to resist Doom's commands.

_Your will is impressive, and rightfully so, as an Esper of Chemosh._ Doom's voice said in a less brutal tone. He could see that the only way to fully control this man would be to destroy his mind completely, and that was not an acceptable exchange. He needed a Herald, and he needed Maria's essence if he ever wanted to complete the ritual of revival...

_Very well._ Doom said, finally acquiescing to Draco's fury._ Heed my words well, King of Dragons. Maria hangs on the very brink of death, only the faintest spark left of her light. If you wish to save her you must transfer our magical essence into her. Just as my power gave you the body you now own, so too can it give new life to Maria's weary flesh._

"I must turn her into...this?" Draco growled in disgust, looking at his own gruesome appearance. "I..can't..."

_You must! Becoming an Esper of Chemosh is the only way to save her now! Let my power flow through you, through her..._

"What of my child?" Draco said, reluctantly turning his mind to the awful task at hand.

_True magic is an unpredictable force, even to a god of magic. They may live, they may die. The power of the universe is the power of thought and dreams. The hopes and dreams of the parents will decide the fate of their children. Now, time is running out! Make your choice, Esper!_

"Children...?" Draco parroted back Doom's choice of words, wondering.

_Do not dwell on trivialities! Choose! _Doom's voice urged with growing impatience.

"I am sorry, my love," Draco said as he made his choice. "Forgive me, my child."

A blue aura rose up around the trembling form of Bahamut, engulfing both the Esper and its precious cargo in cold flames. The aura flared outwards, then shrank until it only surrounded Maria's silent body. The magical energy flowed and weaved around her, forming a dense cocoon of solid ice.

_It is done._ Doom's voice chanted.

"Now what?" Draco said. His voice was tired, defeated. He felt a growing magical presence beneath him, and knew Maria would live. But what kind of life had Draco forced upon her?

_Now we must flee this place. Moloch's forces are firmly in control now, and there is nothing left for us here. We go south to prepare for the next battle, and next time we will emerge victorious!_

With Maria seemingly safe, Draco's thoughts returned to his conflict with Dune. The monster still must pay for this unforgivable act he had forced upon the Star of the West. Maria would be cursed to live as an Esper because of Dune, and the thought of his beautiful wife turned into a grotesque beast filled the man with renewed rage.

_Yes...you shall have your revenge against my former Herald, but now we must leave this place._

"I shall have my revenge now!" Draco shouted defiantly, once again testing his will against the dark god within him.

_Stop! Your blind rage will get you and Maria killed!_

Draco ignored the frigid pressure Doom was placing on his mind, and dived back down into the fray, the magically enhanced Scion in hand, and the cocooned Maria tightly gripped in his lower claws. He would have justice this night!

Below, Dune and Genju were still struggling to get out of the trap Leviathan had sprung on them. As the blinding flash from the most recent of Alexander's relentless assaults faded, Dune and Genju tried to escape through the opening Bahamut had made as he left the area to wage his own internal battle. Just as they thought they might push through, Bahamut reappeared from above, cutting off all possible hope of escape in that direction. The cold look in his eyes told them all they needed to know about the unpredictable Esper's current intentions. He was here to finish what he had started.

The pair was surrounded on all sides by the forces of the Fallen Masters. Alexander, Leviathan and his group, and now the returned Bahamut had them pent in like animals to be slaughtered. There were only two directions to go. Downward, into the flaming mouth of Narsille, or up into the merciless hands of the storm.

Dune looked down at the sinking city, rapidly disappearing into the freely flowing lava that was filling all corners of the once beautiful valley. There would be no safety in that. Sade had won the prize of Narsille, whatever it was worth to him in this state.

But above was the storm, still churning over the skies of Narsille, still unleashing its unceasing might long after there was anything left below to care. The storm that had hounded him since the beginning of this nightmare. Its power had been unstoppable at every turn of the journey, but now Dune had power of his own. Now it was Dune's turn to fight back against this Master of Storms.

"Genju, we have to fly straight up! Into the storm!" Dune shouted, dodging the bolts of lightning from Ramuh and the balls of energy from Bahamut, and always keeping an eye on Alexander for the next blast of holy light. The situation was getting out of hand, and Dune knew very soon he would be defeated by one of the warring Espers.

"What?" Genju said, trying his best to dodge the barrage of magical energy as well. "Pierce the walls of Merkabah? That's madness! We'll be struck down like flies!"

"It's our only choice! If we stick together and combine our power, we might survive." Dune said, narrowly avoiding another attack from Bahamut. He winced with pain as his previous wound reopened with the effort.

Genju was reminded of the barrier he had created using Dune's power before. The strength of that barrier had been beyond anything Genju had thought he could ever cast. It had survived the awesome suicidal force of Sade's full power...perhaps it would be enough...

"Yes," Genju said, deciding. "We go to the Throne of Uranos. If we can show our strength by surviving the winds of Merkabah, perhaps the Master of Storms will listen to our prayers and intercede in this madness."

"We just need to get out of here," Dune said, already propelling himself straight upwards as fast as his battered body could move.

"Beware, Dune." Genju said, rising to match Dune's rapid ascent. "Uranos is a fickle god. Even I do not know what lies beyond the Merkabah's walls. We may be fleeing from the claws of the dragon straight into the mouth of the lion."

"It's a chance we'll have to take. I've had enough of being a plaything of the gods. This storm ends tonight."

With a brilliant flash of blue and white light, Dune and Genju rocketed up into the clouds, leaving their dumbfounded enemies speechless below them. Before the army of Espers could react, the two renegades had bravely punched through the roiling mass of black clouds, vanishing from sight as the billowing darkness quickly reformed behind them.

At this gross intrusion of holy space, the entire span of Merkabah shuddered, and the storm unleashed a new level of ferocity on the dead city below. Tornados spiraled down from the skies, and a rain of gigantic hailstones filled the air. Thick curtains of lightning rippled across the city, incinerating anything they touched. This was nothing like the storms over the Thanas Desert and Mordic Sea. This was the full wrath of Uranos, raw and unfettered. The remaining Esper servants of the Fallen Masters scattered in all directions, desperate to escape the apocalypse falling around them.

Only Alexander remained, stolid and unbreakable as the earth itself. After the others had abandoned the city and he was left alone, sole protector to Moloch's throne, he quietly sank back beneath the ruined landscape. The battle for Narsille had ended, and nothing remained of the once grand city but smoke, fire, and ash. Sade had won this battle, but the war of the gods was just beginning. There was still an entire world out there, waiting to be cleansed.


	79. Dream's End, 'Ascension'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Begininng**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.16 - Ascension**

Dune pushed through the dense clouds of Merkabah with all the strength left in his body. Bahamut's wound still pained him with every surge of energy, and he could see a steady trickle of glistening blue blood dripping away from him as he rose through layer after layer. He knew exerting himself like this would worsen his condition, but he was set on this path. If he was going to die, he wanted to face this final tormentor and demand an explanation for the tragedy that had unfolded beneath this god's watchful presence.

The storm would not admit trespassers so easily, though. Dune could see the spiraling cyclones twisting through the variegated world of the storm all the way down to the helpless city below. Vast networks of lightning flashed threateningly in between the dark pillars of wind like cracks in the sky. Cannonball-sized hailstones filled the air where endless rain had fallen before. Throughout it all, the cacophonous call of destruction echoed across the horizon. This chaos was the storm's death knell for Narsille.

Between Dune's cold aura and Genju's powerful holy barrier, they were withstanding the murderous environment of the inner depths of Merkabah, but neither Esper knew how far the storm cloud ascended, or if there was any sanctuary to be found above the cloud cover. For all they knew, the storm rose forever, a never-ending column of death.

A massive hailstone the size of Dune's head slammed into their doubled barrier, and Dune watched in horror as the chunk of ice penetrated halfway through the wall of magic before disintegrating. It would not be long before their protection failed, and the storm claimed them.

Genju sensed the coming threat, and turned his bearded face to Dune. In the flickering whirlwind of light and darkness around them, his withered face looked like a death mask. But there was a glimmer of determination in his deep eyes that told Dune he had a plan.

"Dune, the Nacre, give it to me." Genju shouted, his voice sounding like it was a mile away in the wall of noise accompanying the inner storm.

Dune had almost forgotten the strange necklace of pearls around his neck. He knew it was capable of miraculous feats, but against something as almighty as Merkabah, what could a piece of jewelry do? Dune simply took the Nacre and passed it carefully to the elder Esper without a word.

Genju handled the artifact reverently, and began chanting in an unknown language. The six pearls that still glowed flared up like white torches as his words washed over them. The storm seemed to be aware of what was happening, and shrank back from the holy light pouring off the Nacre. It knew these ancient words well, and knew their power must be obeyed when spoken by a true holy priest of the Order in possession of the Nacre.

"In the name of Elia, I beseech you! Let us pass! Al-Aqualem!" Genju cried, finishing the incantation. The light from the pearls condensed into a single ray and shot upwards into the deepest levels of the endless storm.

Everything stopped as the light pierced the hidden heart of Merkabah. The cyclones stopped their mad rotation, the lightning froze in place, the hailstones hovered in midair. Time ceased to flow within the stricken storm, and Dune and Genju felt an oppressive presence awaken above them, begrudgingly allowing them safe passage through the remaining layers of the storm.

"Our call has been heard, and Merkabah opens its gates to us," Genju said softly, still entranced by his ritual. "Quickly, let us finish our ascent while the storm is at bay."

Dune, in awe of the power of both Genju and the Nacre, gulped and returned his gaze to the clouds above them. They remained still, but threatened to resume their gnashing and churning at any moment. The two solemnly resumed their rise, and after what could have been seconds or millennia, they broke through the walls of Merkabah.

Like a fish leaping out of water, Dune burst from the sea of dark clouds into the clear night sky, far, far above the earth. He relaxed his body and allowed himself to glide weightlessly on his own momentum before slowing to a stop. He hovered alone for a moment in the moonlight before Genju joined him in the quiet world above Merkabah.

It was a truly breathtaking sight above the clouds. The rage of the storm had resumed the moment they left the confines of the clouds, but none of the violence below reached the serene environment they now found themselves in. The twin moons hung full in the night sky, pale eyes watching over the world below. A field of glittering stars surrounded the bright moons, wrapping the heavens in their flow. Rows upon rows of undulating grey clouds covered the ceiling of the world, silently rising and falling like waves of grass in the wind. All was quiet.

Dune watched in amazement as a small shining sphere shot across the heavens almost too fast for the eye to follow. It was one of Narsille's orbiting satellites, now mindlessly traversing the planet with no hope of ever receiving another order. How long would these abandoned stars cross the sky before finally falling to earth, forgotten by their creators? It could be centuries, millennia. In Dune's mind, images flashed of a distant future people discovering one of these relics of a lost civilization crashed to earth, its vast reserves of power finally depleted. What would they think of the once great technology of Narsille? What future archeologists would pick up where Dune had left off, uncovering the strange history of this world?

"Who dares profane the sacred realm of Merkabah?"

Dune's fanciful daydreams were shattered by a voice as deep as the abyss resonating through the new realm. Its force sent vibrations thrumming through Dune's body, causing him to stiffen in nervous anticipation. Following Genju's gaze, Dune saw the source of this vast voice, its towering form filling the eastern skies.

Out of the flowing clouds there rose the shape of a giant head, the size of a mountain. The head was in the form of a man, with thick curls of cloud-spun hair surrounding a face full of anger. A close-cropped grey beard of clouds covered the giant's face, meeting the locks of hair to form a magnificent mane fit for a king. Two ghostly pale eyes shone like furious stars from within the darkening visage. The scowl stretching across the mountainous cloudshape filled Dune with dread. Had he made a mistake coming to this place after all?

"Is that Uranos?" Dune whispered to Genju as the billowing face seethed before them. The twin cores of light stared measuringly at the two trespassers, studying them intently.

"Nay, I know that face, and it is not the face of Uranos...," Genju said, as awestruck as Dune. "I never thought to see that face again, certainly not within the walls of Merkabah!"

When Genju spoke, the eyes snapped onto the Esper like cross-hairs, and a look of deep-seated wrath rippled across the bearded face. The mouth moved, and a voice like distant thunder rumbled across the heavens.

"Genju, the Eldest...why have you abandoned your exile? The time of your penance has not yet been decreed by the gods. Do you come again as the Warrior King? Speak, or I will hurl you from these hallowed halls into the deepest pits of Discordia!"

Genju suddenly appeared to shrink in size, once again taking on the penitent form of a weak old man. When he spoke, it was in a shamed voice Dune had never heard before.

"Adamastor, hear me! The Warrior King is dead, never to rise again. Before you is a humble servant of Altimus, and nothing more. The hand of Fate has decided to thrust this broken vessel into the world of men once again. I am a victim of Altimus's guiding touch, and nothing more."

The face shook in barely contained spasms of emotion. "The words of a traitor are meaningless. I have followed the faltering of the Balance across this world, and somehow I am not surprised to find you at its end, Genju!"

Genju threw himself forward, abasing himself to the mighty figure. "I know my words ring hollow after all these centuries, but please forgive me, Adamastor! Look past our quarrel and see the world as it is now! The Fallen Masters have returned, and have found new Heralds to wreak their havoc across the mortal realm. You were once the mightiest Esper among us, will you not raise your fist to the injustice below?"

The face of the Esper known as Adamastor churned and roiled, his ghostly features twisting and distorting in disgust. "You think the Herald of Uranos ignorant of the threat to the Balance! While you have been indolent in your exile, I alone have carried the burden of maintaining the Balance. I have followed the path of the Fallen every step of the way, intervening as much as I was permitted by my Master!" Adamastor's eyes burned with murderous intelligence as they passed from the wretched figure of Genju to the other intruder.

"You!" Adamastor's bellowing voice slammed into Dune like fist, and the weakening Esper almost collapsed at the hatred dripping from that one word. "Do not think you stand before me with your sins hidden in the guise of the Dreaming Awake! I know you, Dune Karn, and at Elia's request I have allowed you to continue your mindless blundering at the hands of the Master of Ice. But this trespass I cannot forgive! Why have you come here, and why have you brought the murderous Genju with you?"

Dune was petrified by the harsh words of Adamastor. Dune knew his own crimes all too well, but what had Genju done to deserve such treatment? His disdain for the venerable Esper was a shock to Dune, and he wondered just what dark sins the mysterious relic of the distant past carried on his angel's wings.

"Master of Merkabah," Dune spoke carefully, not wanting to offend the titanic Esper. "We have come only to seek refuge from the Fallen Masters below. Please, grant us asylum in your realm, if only for a short while! We are alone and defeated, and pose no threat to you. Please, help us!"

The Esper rumbled, but said nothing for a moment. Then, "I do not sense the power of Chemosh within you, Dune Karn. You have been as a child, stumbling through this world without a thought for the greater powers at work. But...I see you have freed yourself from the Fallen Masters. That is no small task for one as young as you." Adamastor turned his fierce gaze back to the withering Genju. "You could learn from this one, Eldest! I can see that the two of you are truly lost in the storm that rages beneath Merkabah. I will never forgive you for your betrayal, Genju, but it is not for me to decide your fate, or Dune's. I must converse with my Master, and see what is to be done. Remain where you are!"

The tumultuous face of Adamastor stilled, and his glowing eyes closed. He looked as if he were in a deep trance. Dune took this moment to try and understand what had happened between these two mythical Espers of yore.

"Genju, who is this Esper? Why does he bear such a grudge against you?"

Genju straightened himself out, still looking frail and truly old. He looked at Dune with eyes full of pain and guilt. "Adamastor is an ancient Esper, and the Herald of Uranos, just as you once were the Herald of Chemosh, and I was once the Herald of Altimus." Genju sighed at the thought of his glory days as the Warrior King of the great Phoenician Empire. All lost.

"How many more Espers are out there? If such powerful beings exist in the world, how was this catastrophe allowed to happen?" Dune said angrily, despite his precarious situation.

"Of the original Heralds, only Adamastor remains," Genju explained with a heavy heart. "Each Master had their own Herald to act as their voice and will in the mortal world. I was the first Herald, chosen by the Holy Master Altimus himself. The next Herald to be created was Phoenix, the Herald of Elia." Genju's face wrinkled in pain at the thought of his entombed love. "She...still lives, but cannot help us. She is a slave to her unending duty, bound in eternal fire."

Dune, unaware of the true identity of the Phoenix, did not understand Genju's enigmatic words. "Where is the Phoenix? Could we free her?"

Genju shrank further into himself. "It is not possible. She rests at the center of Phoenix Isle, keeping watch over our former homeland. It is her burden that she sacrifice herself every hundred years to prove to the gods that mankind is still worthy of their blessing. It was a cruel fate for my gentle Phoenix, but she bore it willingly, even gladly. If only I could have remained as faithful as she!"

Now Dune knew what Genju was saying. He knew of the strange rite of the Order from Indie, but did not know that there was an Esper at the heart of the ritual. He sensed there was something Genju was holding back about the imprisoned Esper, but he felt it was none of his business to pry further.

"What about the other Espers?" Dune asked, changing the subject.

"Adamastor was the next Herald, and for a time, we were steadfast allies. He was a mighty warrior, and acted as the arm of my Empire, protecting the peace throughout the realm while I ruled from my throne." Genju paused and looked at the silent face of his former friend, wondering how they could have strayed so far from each other.

"What happened? Why does he hate you?"

"You must understand, Dune," Genju continued. "Adamastor is filled with the fury of the Master of Storms himself. The temper of the Herald of Uranos is not to be tested, and I made the unforgivable mistake of insulting his honor with orders unbecoming of a noble Esper. Tiring of my increasingly bloodthirsty decrees, he was the first to see the warmonger I was becoming, and left my service in a great rage. When he stormed from my throne room in a whirlwind of disgust, that was the last time I ever saw him."

"But this storm, this Merkabah - what is it?" Dune asked, confused at how even an Esper as mighty as Adamastor could wield such god-like power.

"The storm is the chariot of Uranos" Genju replied, thinking out loud as he pieced together events. "It appeared many years after Adamastor left my side. I always wondered where my friend had gone, and was equally perplexed by the appearance of the great storm Merkabah that devastated the borders of my empire. Now it makes sense. After he abandoned his post, he must have spent an unfathomable amount of his own energy building up this storm on the farthest reaches of the planet, outside my ever expanding empire. But to create something so vast, he must have had direct access to his Master's divine plane." Genju paused and scanned the horizon.

"What are you looking for?" Dune asked, fascinated by the wealth of historical information he was being granted. This was any archeologist's dream, and it saddened Dune that he would probably never be able to share this knowledge with the human world. Genju alone could put all the greatest libraries of Doma to shame with his deep experiences.

Genju said nothing while his sharp eyes looked across the empty plains above Merkabah. Then he stopped and gasped in recognition of what he was seeking.

"Aha!" He shouted almost cheerfully. "Look there, Dune." Genju pointed one long finger off into the distance, behind where Adamastor still meditated on their fate. The huge shaggy head obscured most of their vision in that direction, but a dark speck could be seen rising from the clouds like an island in the sky. The straight, horn-like projection was jet black and looked smooth as ice and hard as metal, but shown with an unearthly intensity. Strangely, it reminded Dune of the Ultima Gate from inside Crescent Mountain.

"What is that?" Dune asked, more fascinated than ever.

"That is the entrance to Vimana, the plane of Uranos," Genju said, solemnly. "From that adamantine spire, Uranos fuels this sprawling creation of Adamastor." As if reading Dune's thoughts, Genju explained its connection to the Ultima Gate. "The Ultima Gate was not the only entrance to the Nexus, just the only one accessible to mortals. Each Master exists in a purely magical realm of their own fashioning, separate from this mortal world. The Nexus is the infinite expanse that connects the space between the various realms. Through that spire you see beyond Adamastor is Uranos's bridge through the Nexus and into his divine realm of Vimana."

Dune felt his head spinning as Genju dumped the flurry of terms into his brain. "Slow down!" Dune said exasperatedly. "Vimana, the Nexus, the Ultima Gate...these are all connected? What about that force I encountered in the Nexus? The Crystal Forge?"

"Everything is connected, everything is one," Genju intoned, staring at the Vimana Gate rising silently on the eastern horizon. While he spoke, the lonely Narsillian satellite made another streaking path across the sky. "The Crystal Forge is the pathway to the highest plane, the center of all the realms. Through its purifying flames you glimpsed the seat of Altimus himself, Concordia, and were reborn."

Dune took a moment to take all this in, sharing Genju's view of the Vimana Gate and contemplating the higher nature of reality. He felt so small and naive, looking back at the laughably limited perspective he once held of the universe. That truly was another lifetime ago.

"What of the other Espers?" Dune asked quietly as his mind wandered across the cosmos.

"There was only one other Esper during my reign," Genju said tensely, a grim look stealing across his face. He had been avoiding this final leg of their conversation, but he knew he must tell Dune everything, even if it cost him the simple man's trust.

"Who? Where is this Esper?" Dune said innocently, unaware of Genju's change in attitude.

"He is right here, always by my side," Genju said with an odd choking sound. Before Dune could say anything, Genju reached deep into his voluminous robes and revealed a large faceted gem, similar to the gravity crystal Dune had once owned. It was slightly larger and elongated, but translucent and crystalline in appearance, unlike the black, bottomless faces of the gravity crystal. At its center there was a ruby-colored orb, like a small heart encased in thick glass. The ruby heart beat with a warm pulse that radiated throughout the crystal in a rainbow of gentle colors.

"What is that? Is that an Esper?" Dune asked incredulously. After seeing the strange forms of Alexander and the others, he half-expected the crystal to be some exotically shaped Esper. With magic, anything was possible.

"It was, long ago." Genju continued, hesitant to explain further. "This is what happens to an Esper when their life force is extinguished."

It took a second for Dune to fully grasp Genju's words. "You mean we turn into...that...when we die?"

Genju hung his head in shame. "Yes. This is what is known as magicite. It is what is left of our mortal flesh when the magical portion of our being returns to the Nexus. Without the support of our magical life force, our Esper bodies collapse and condense into a fragment of highly concentrated adamantite. Magicite." When Genju finished, there were tears in his eyes.

Dune wasn't sure how to respond to Genju's revelation. The Esper was obviously bothered by this curious object. Was this his friend? "Genju, the last of your group of Espers...that's him?"

Genju swallowed hard, struggling to force the words he loathed to say. "This is my cross to bear, Dune. This was the fourth and final Herald. Titan, the Herald of Gaeus. He was my closest and most loyal ally." Genju stopped, unable to continue. With a sigh that echoed across the ages, he revealed his heaviest burden. "I killed him."

Dune was speechless at Genju's confession. The great pacifist, a murderer?

"What do you mean? How? Why?" Dune stuttered, not sure what to say to this.

Genju merely shook his head, unable to speak any further. He cradled the dead Titan's remains, then carefully tucked it back into his robes.

They both remained awkwardly silent, Dune unsure what to say next, and Genju unwilling to speak after admitting his greatest crime.

The silence was broken by the angry voice of Adamastor, now awake and glaring at the two tiny specks. His face had softened, but his eyes stilled burned with unquenched wrath.

"I shall tell you, little one," Adamastor said with deep disdain.

Genju looked up at the intimidating face of his former friend, but was too ashamed to argue. Adamastor told the sad story of Titan's death, not without a gloating air of satisfaction.

"In his growing madness, the Warrior King demanded increasingly insane tributes to his throne. I left before he reached this point, or I too might have shared our brother's fate. Even when all his subjects had turned against him and the other two Heralds had abandoned him, Titan remained by his side, as solid and stubborn as the earth itself. Had he been less loyal, he would still be here today, patrolling the land as I patrol the skies.

"In the end, Genju was consumed by the powers of the Fallen Masters just as the current Heralds are now. The three dark gods crept into his tainted soul and found his weaknesses, one by one. Titan saw what was happening, and tried to save his friend, but was too late. The Herald of Altimus was gone, and the Warrior King was all that remained. In a fit of rage at being defied, the Warrior King slew his closest friend, and claimed his magicite remains for himself. This was the final act of the Warrior King. For the grievous and unforgivable crime of espercide, he was stripped of his kingdom, his title as Herald, and the gifts of Altimus, and banished to the depths of Crescent Isle."

"No more!" Genju sobbed, unable to relive to the story of his own downfall yet again. He had replayed these events in his mind countless times during his thousand-year exile, but the pain never lessened. To hear the story now told from the accusing and merciless voice of Adamastor was too much.

"No more, you say?" Adamastor growled, lightning flashing across his massive face. "Ask Titan if you have suffered enough for his death! Has his voice ever reached out to you even once in all these years? I doubt it. You keep his remains on you at all times, but they are cold and silent to your touch, are they not? You may have taken his powers for you own, but you will never have his trust again!"

Dune was amazed at the terrible words of Adamastor, but his last explosive accusation left Dune confused, and at the risk of being struck down, he hazarded a question to slake his intense curiosity.

"What do you mean, Titan's voice? Can Esper's communicate beyond death?"

Adamastor's steely glare snapped to Dune, but his rage was still focused solely on Genju as he clarified his previous words.

"We Espers are beings of magic. Once the pact is made and we receive the blessing of the Masters, we are forever a part of their essence. The death of the flesh is a mortal death, and removes us from the mortal world only. Our magical essence, our soul, still exists beyond this world, although its exact nature and location is unknown, even to such as myself. Only the Masters themselves know what truly happens beyond death, for Espers and humans alike. But if a departed Esper strongly desires to communicate with the mortal world, they may still voice their thoughts through their magicite remains. Such is the power of magicite. Just as the adamantite Gates connect the Nexus to the mortal world, so too does the adamantite shard that houses the remnants of our power connect an individual Esper's soul to the mortal world.

"You speak the truth, Adamastor," Genju said weakly. "Titan does not call out to me, even now. When we meet again beyond the curtain of death, I will have much to answer for. Surely, my friend will be waiting for me at the doors to the afterlife, his accusing eyes following me for all eternity. I do not ask for forgiveness, only asylum." Genju bowed his head humbly and asked, "What has your Master decided?"

Dune looked on tensely, wondering what Adamastor would say. To his surprise, the mountainous face split into a wide grin. Dune did not know whether this was a good sign or bad.

"I have communed with my Master, and he has communed with the other Masters." Adamastor said sternly as he delivered his judgment. "They have watched your role in the events below with great interest, Genju. You have shown them a great change in your attitudes, and they believe your exile should be shortened in light of your recent behavior."

Genju's eyes lit up at the chance of being pardoned by his Master after all these lonesome centuries. He wondered if he was as worthy as they thought him to be, though. His old friend's magicite remained silent beside his heart still. Would he ever hear the voice of Titan again?

"However," Adamastor's voice continued. "It was not by the hand of the rightful Masters that your exile was ended prematurely. By the decree of Altimus himself, you are to carry out the remainder of your exile here, atop Merkabah. I shall be your jailer, and Uranos your warden for however long the gods deem necessary."

Genju's heart sunk, but he knew it was what he deserved, and nothing less. He had tasted freedom for a short while, but his crimes were too great to be forgiven just yet. "I understand and accept my punishment," Genju said as calmly as he could.

Now Dune was worried. Would he be forced to stay here among the clouds for the rest of his life, as well? Genju may be willing to give up his freedom, but Dune was not sure he could stand to remain here for much longer. The world below needed him. His friends needed him. And Mae, she was still down there, and perhaps there was still hope for the two of them yet...

"What of my fate?" Dune asked, afraid of what judgment the Esper might pass down.

Adamastor looked at Dune with what almost appeared to be kindness. "You have also committed grave crimes under the influence of the Fallen Masters, young one."

At these words, Dune felt faint. Was this to be his new home?

The Esper judge's face softened as he continued. "However, the Masters have decided that the blame lies more in the hands of their fallen brothers and sister than in yours. Rather than destroy, you have chosen to fight the instincts of your Esper blood. You overcame the power of Chemosh, and are now a free Esper, beholden to no Master. You are unique, Dune."

Dune wasn't sure where Adamastor was headed, but he remained silent and awaited his sentence.

"You may leave Merkabah in peace, and seek your destiny below," Adamastor said with a strange glint in his eye. He continued in a different tone, almost conspiratorially, as if between friends, or allies. "The Masters have taken a great interest in you, Dune. They wish to see what you choose to do with your newfound power and freedom. Your path is now your own, and the Balance is now in your hands. Do not let us down, Esper of No One." Adamastor chuckled softly, seemingly as curious to see what Dune would do as his Masters.

Dune was relieved that he would be allowed to return to the world below, but he didn't know what exactly the gods expected of him. Was he supposed to save the world from the Fallen Masters? Alone? He suddenly felt like he was being manipulated once again, only this time by a different caste of gods.

Adamastor watched Dune's reactions closely, and easily read his thoughts on his face. Laughing, he responded to Dune's fears. "Ah, do not concern yourself with the incomprehensible plans of the gods. They manipulate us all in their infinite designs within designs. But you are freer than most, and should enjoy such unprecedented range of movement. Go, do as your heart bids, and do not think of what the gods expect of you, child."

"So I'm alone, abandoned by everyone?" Dune snapped, realizing only now what true freedom really felt like.

"You are never alone, Dune." Genju said from his side. "I must remain here for now, but I will always be with you in spirit. Here, take this. Perhaps you can stir the hardened heart of the mighty Titan."

Genju took Titan's magicite from his robes once more, and slowly passed it to a shocked Dune.

"I...I can't accept this..." Dune stammered. "He was your friend, not mine!"

"And he died because if it. No, Titan has remained in my care long enough. I have clung to his remains in hopes of reconciling with him, but now I see I was wrong. As I have been in exile, so too have I forced that exile upon my friend for all these centuries. I may have to remain here, but my friend's punishment ends now. You will know what do with him. I trust you, as do we all."

"Alright. I am honored, Genju." Dune said nervously, taking the magicite as if he were accepting a newborn child. The stone felt warm to the touch.

"Enough. It is time you left this place," Adamastor said with finality. "My chariot will hound you no longer, Dune. If you ever see Merkabah in the future, consider it a sign of fellowship, not an ill omen. Now! Return to the world of man, and forge your own destiny!"

Adamastor rose up as he spoke these parting words, revealing his massive form down to the waist. He raised his hands and clapped them together with the sound of thunder. Genju rose up on his majestic wings and flew to Adamastor's side, waving farewell to both his friends.

The waves of clouds began to peel away, layer by layer beneath Dune. Taking one last glance at the setting moons and fading night, Dune descended through the submissive storm. Soon Dune could see the land below, still burning with the fire of Moloch. As he turned to look back at Merkabah, he found that that storm had vanished, slipping away into the night.

Dune was alone.


	80. Dream's End, 'Exodus'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 1: The Beginning**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Dream's End**

* * *

**Part 8.17 - Exodus**

While Dune had his fateful meeting above the clouds, the desperate populace of Narsille struggled to flee their dying city before it was too late. For far too many, the city had become their grave, but hundreds of thousands of Narsillians still clogged the staging area between the great mythril gates in a last desperate attempt to live. Among these survivors was Mae, and she was beside herself with grief, and shame.

The giant mass of people moved slowly away from the city and into the mountainous country-side in an ever-expanding wave, every person marching to their own sad thoughts. Among the many stories of loss and suffering to be found here, few were as profound as that of the raven-haired ghost that flitted through the crowd silently. Some people tried to comfort the obviously stricken young woman, but she only shook them off and continued the torturously long walk to safety. She had to keep moving. She had to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. She feared no matter how much distance she put between herself and this place, though, the wretched choice she had made would follow her forever.

She knew she would be dead right now if it wasn't for him. She knew he had saved her. And she knew who he was - had known the moment he entered her room. Even if he hadn't been wearing that same dusty hat, and even if she hadn't seen the strange black crystal hanging from his neck. Even if she hadn't noticed the broken glasses tucked away in the remains of his terribly familiar clothing, she still would have known it was him. And yet, she had turned away, had refused to believe what was happening. Some truths were just too much to accept.

Mae glanced up from her thoughts at the towering silhouette swimming through the ocean of bodies ahead of her. It was the Figaro, slowly trundling down the steeply sloping plains outside of Narsille as it too escaped the disaster still exploding behind them. It had been beaten and burnt in its narrow escape from the underground, but it was a tough old thing, built for the ages. This lone sentinel, the greatest of Alex Figaro's achievements, would survive as a final battered reminder of the once great Narsille.

The great fortress-like vehicle stirred up unpleasant memories in Mae's mind. It was a bitter soup of emotions, but she would have to swallow it all if she was to survive. The first thing she had to admit to herself was the hardest, but it could not be ignored any more than the massive Figaro in front of her. She had abandoned her husband. This was an undeniable truth.

Something horrible had happened to Dune, and instead of staying by his side, she had ran. She would have thought the sight of that vicious brute an impossible hallucination, if not for the strange serpent-like apparition that had floated past her window just a few hours before. Her home was a den of monsters now, and Dune was one of them.

_Oh Dune, why couldn't you just have stayed with me? What mad call led you to this?_

But a happy, peaceful life between them was not to be, and Mae had to accept that or go insane. Dune was beyond her now, and she just was not strong enough to accept him as he was. The decision had been made, and there was no going back, for her or for Dune. Her husband was dead to her, and a long lonely road awaited her. Mae wiped away the steadily flowing tears and picked up her pace, determined to make it back to the nearby village of her birth where her mother would be waiting for her. That, at least, was the same as always, and right now that was exactly what the newly widowed Mae Karn needed most.

As Mae turned her back on the city of her love for the last time, a great cry went up from the back of the procession leaving the city. Something new was happening in the city, and from the sound of things, it was some new horror. Mae turned to look back at her former home and saw the great storm pitch and churn with increased fury, flailing out at the defenseless city like a man on fire.

_Why bother, storm? There's nothing left there to destroy. Your work is done. Go away._

Suddenly, several bright lights shot out from the maddening cloud like missiles. One by one they disappeared over the horizon, heading south. Each light left a long glowing trail as it frantically sped away from the death throes of the city. Mae might have been the only person in the vast crowd to recognize those lights in the skyfor what they really were. Dune had left a similar trail behind him as he rocketed through the city with her in his arms. Those were more monsters, spreading out from the corpse of Narsille like a disease. Mae silently groaned in futility, wondering if there was any place in the world that would be safe now.

As Mae watched the strange lights fade into the distance, a grinding roar began to rise behind her. For a moment, the entire movement of people froze as the final sign that they were now truly cast out sounded around them. The great mythril gates, the pride of Narsille, were closing for good. Surely there was no one left inside the watchtowers to man the gates, and yet they slid back into their shut position as if some great poltergeist was controlling them. After several agonizing minutes, the softly glowing gates slammed together with a sickening thud that shook the air, sealing the city off from the rest of the world.

There had still been people trying to make their way through the passage, even as the gates crushed them to death in their mammoth jaws. It was just one more senseless tragedy piled onto the heap, and the tired populace was too numb to even mourn the last unlucky victims of the destruction of Narsille. With the same dogged determination, the remainder of the people of Narsille continued their slow walk away from the city.

Mae, too, watched with a detached view as the gates shut. There was nothing left in her to grieve for even more lost souls. It was just too much for any human to take in. She simply turned away from the sealed city and continued with the rest of the survivors. As she walked, she watched the skies for any more lights. Perhaps one of them would be Dune? No...best not to even think of such things anymore.

As Mae watched the skies, hoping and dreading what she might see, a strange rippling began spreading across the black storm clouds. Like a mirage, the cloud began to shimmer and fade. In just a few brief seconds, the massive blackness twisted and sputtered right out of existence. A few lingering threads of haze evaporated away, and then there was nothing but puffy, white clouds moving across the sky. These were normal clouds, not the roiling black presence that had besieged the city for so long, and they brought with them the natural weather of the region, not the hate-filled rainfall of the cursed storm.

A small, delicate snowflake slowly floated across Mae's vision, and she felt the cool sensation of falling snow on her skin. She held out her hand and let one of the fragile messengers fall into her palm, melting away under her warmth. Yes, it was a cold world out here, but that warmth told her she was still alive. The long night was finally over, and dawn was quickly approaching, heralded by the gentle snowfall around her. It would soon be a new day, a new life, for Mae. It was a life without her beloved Dune and without her home, but it was a life all the same. As the heavens wept their frozen tears for all that had been lost, Mae let herself cry one last time for her former world, then pushed forward, into the rising sun and an uncertain future.

While Mae wept her bitter tears, Dune silently descended from Merkabah like a falling star, his strength ebbing at the recent trials he had forced on his wounded body. Bahamut's vicious attack had left a gash that would not heal easily, and with every breath Dune felt his magical energies weaken. He struggled to steer his body away from the burning plains that now covered Narsille, and out of the city. Globes of blue blood dripped below him into the seething cauldron, hissing as they burned away.

Dune knew he would not be able to stay aloft for long, but he had to make it to the entrance of the city. Gripping his side in pain and trying to hold back the bleeding, he put on a final burst of power, and propelled himself over the now tightly shut gates.

That last push was all he had left, and it would have to be enough. Dune watched helplessly as his body tumbled out of the city like a thrown stone, arcing over the heads of many dazed humans. Some looked up with glazed eyes devoid of emotion, most no longer had the energy to care about what was happening around them. Dune knew how they felt, and wanted nothing more than to be carried off alongside this throng.

But they were forever separated from him. Dune was an Esper, and they were humans. From now on, he would have to hide himself, sneaking from town to town under the cover of night until he found some place he could call home. This was to be Dune's life now - an exile, an outcast. The sooner he accepted it, the sooner he could move on and perhaps yet do something for this world. The world would reject him wherever he went, but there were still people out there that needed him.

Dune's broken body landed far away from the crowd of refugees, and for a while, he merely lay there on his back, staring into the now mostly clear sky. A few harmless clouds chugged along, dropping their white payload onto the earth. Dune felt the snow on his hard skin, and it felt almost warm compared to his own body. Another oddity of his new life he would have to get used to in the coming times. Perhaps it would be better to just stay here, and let the snow bury him...

As soon as these hopeless thoughts entered Dune's mind, he felt the Nacre still around his neck send a reproving jolt up his spine. Yes, he knew he could not give up, but it would be so much easier!

With a terrific effort, Dune rolled over and shook the snow off himself like a bear. He got to his knees, and stood on all fours for a moment, gathering his strength. The cold snow seemed to ease his pains, but the wound still shone across his side. He needed to recover his strength, and it seemed the chilly mountains that surrounded his former home might be the safest place for him now.

Dune staggered to his feet and began walking north, around the city walls and into the vast range of icy peaks looming over him. He passed several beasts of the mountains as he walked. Burly, blue-furred vomammoths, silvery lobo wolves, scampering poison-filled were-rats...these strange creatures would be Dune's companions now. He was a beast, just like them, and they paid little attention to their newest addition.

Dune moved his hand over the precious magicite remains of Titan now in his possession. Its silent warmth comforted him, reminding him that he was not completely alone here in the wild. Perhaps the murdered Esper would call out to him after its long silence in the hands of Genju. Perhaps it found the claws of Maduin already too bloodied, and would never open up to him. Only the gods themselves knew what fate was in store for the tired Esper. And perhaps even they did not truly know what the Esper of No One would do next.

One thing Dune knew with absolute certainty - he was finally free. The Lord of Merkabah had decreed that Dune was a unique creature, free from the meddling of both the Fallen Masters and the True Masters. He was free to choose his own path in this strange new world of magic. The only question was how Dune would use this unprecedented freedom. Would he save the world or forsake it? Could he still save his friends? What of Mae, and all the other humans who would soon be dragged into this expanding war of the gods?

Only Dune would be able to answer these questions. He was an Esper with no Master but himself now. He knew it was time to put his old life behind him. Dune Karn must vanish from the pages of history, and only the Esper Maduin would remain to carry on the hopes and dreams of the man he once was.

Maduin took one final look behind him as he slowly and painfully made his way up into the frozen north. A few people on the outskirts of the mass of exiles caught an eerie glimpse of the fading figure as his blue eyes shone through the falling snow, like some ghostly giant in the mist. The eyes blinked, and then were gone as the first few rays of the steadily rising sun struck them.

A new day had come to the world, as it always must. The old world had ended, and this day would usher in a turbulent age of Gods and Magic, of Espers and Mages.

The Goddess War had begun.

* * *

**Epilogue**

_Few records remain of the innocent time before the rise of magic. The great burning of Doma's legendary libraries saw to that. All we have left now are bits of folklore and myth, and a few precious scraps of lore passed down by the Thamasans. _

_What kind of world was it? Was it a peaceful world or a world of turmoil? Who were the people who called this world home? What mighty cities have vanished into dust? What great deeds and heroes have been forgotten in the sands of time? Sadly, the answers to these questions we may never know. The only beings that might have been able to shed light on this distant time are gone now. May they find the rest they so richly deserved._

_Truly, the history of our world is one of great loss and tragedy. But if the events of my life have taught me anything, it's that one must never give up hope. Things lost may yet be found, and the secrets of the past may yet yield themselves up to our devoted gaze. This is my fervent belief, and I will continue to hunt down the lost history of our mysterious world as long as this old body of mine draws breath._

- Foreword to _"The History of the World"_ by Cid Del Norte Marguez, in the year 43 AF

* * *

Author's note: And so _Book 1 - The Beginning_ is complete! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this far, and I hope you'll stick around for _Book 2 - The Goddess War_. I'd love to know what people's impressions of the story are up to this point and any suggestions for the next book are more than welcome. Anyone reading this, please let me know what you think!


	81. The Wanderer, 'Burying the Past'

~x~

_"The birth of magic..."_

_"Three goddesses were banished to this world. In time they began quarreling, which led to all-out war."_

_"Those unlucky humans who got in the way were transformed into Espers, and used as living war machines..."_

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Prologue**

_The deep time before the great War of the Magi has faded out of history almost completely, but a few remnants of that era of myth do survive to this day. We know of the ancient war of the three so-called "Goddesses" that gave birth to magic, thanks to the Thamasans. The nature and exact outcome of this war, however, is a mystery to us. What ultimately happened to the three Goddesses has become a well-known piece of gossip since the Fall, but how they came to such a sad state still eludes us._

_We also have a name from that time that is repeated over and over in the ancient records that have been recently unearthed at the site of the Ancient Castle of Karnak. That name is Elphis. Who was this Elphis? From the texts, they were undoubtedly a great and revered presence after the Goddess War, but for good or ill, I cannot say. All texts agree on this, however - It was the mighty Elphis that ended the war and brought the Goddesses themselves low. And strangely, a vague prophecy from that time states that it shall be Elphis who will return to us someday, to restore Balance for all time._

_I must continue my studies into this time..._

- Excerpt from Chapter I of _"The History of the World" _by Cid del Norte Marguez, 43 AF

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**Part 9.1 - Burying the Past**

"This is where I died."

"Huh?"

The sun shone down on a small stone amidst an ocean of sand. Here, in this endless desert, three strange travelers paused on their journey to pay respect to the lost. The leader of the group, a dark giant with claws and horns, knelt before the unassuming pile of rubble in reverence. His deep voice resonated across the sand, full of sadness and shame.

"This rock. It was at this spot, what feels like an eternity ago, that I gave up my humanity. On that day, the man known as Dune Karn ceased to exist, and the monster known as Maduin was born."

"Aw, it's just a rock, and you're no monster Maydune! Are we almost across the desert? It's too hot here!"

This was the small voice of a child, no older than seven or eight. She was a vanishingly thin girl, with long brown hair that hung down to her feet, as if it had never been cut a day in her life. She held the massive hand of the brawny beast tightly, her glazed eyes staring straight ahead at nothing, but her face beaming with curiosity. Her feet were bare, and her face filthy. The only clothes she wore was a flimsy old one-piece slip made of rough cotton, like a peasant girl. She could have been one of any countless number of poor outcasts, abandoned in the unforgiving streets to die. But here she was, in the middle of an even more unforgiving wasteland, holding onto the hand of a monster many times her size as if her life depended on it.

"Kupo!" a squeaky voice chimed in alongside the girl.

The giant looked at his two much smaller companions, and smiled ruefully. Long, sharp fangs punctuated his grin, but there was a look of kindness in his cold-blue eyes that lessened the ferocity of his appearance considerably.

"You, too, Kumiro?" the giant rumbled.

The beast known as Maduin chuckled despite his somber mood, and gently ran his clawed fingers through the white fur of the small creature that had uttered the squeaky agreement. It was no larger than the child, and covered in fluffy white fur. It, too, had claws, but tiny ones, meant for digging. It fluttered around its two mismatched companions on tiny wings, its large eyes closed tight and its mouth turned in a wide grin, giving it a look of permanent glee. On its head bobbed a large red ball or fur, completing the picture of someone's cute lost pet. This creature, this "Kumiro", was a moogle, a rare and extremely intelligent animal that inhabited a clime much different and much colder than the one it found itself in now. What had brought such unusual bedfellows together, and here in such an inhospitable place?

"Very well, you win," Maduin said calmly, still kneeling at his own grave, one hand holding the little girl's hand, the other petting the happy moogle. "Just give me a moment, and we'll be off."

Still holding the girl's hand, Maduin reached with his free hand into the tattered backpack he had slung over his spiked shoulder. Out of the pack he pulled two much-abused objects. First, a weather-beaten wide-brimmed hat that looked like it was ready to crumble to dust any moment. The other object was a pair of spectacles, the lenses uselessly cracked and the frames bent beyond repair. Both articles were far too small and battered for the massive Maduin to make any use of now.

Placing the hat carefully on the tip of the rock, and laying the glasses at the foot of the outcropping, he slowly stood up and looked at his handiwork. With one long talon, he carved words into the face of the rock, then stepped back, softly pulling the girl with him. She obeyed his every movement without a care, her trust in him absolute.

"What are you doin'? Tell me, tell me!" The girl squealed, her face not looking at the rock at all. The glazed look still hung in her wide, unfocused eyes, but her face and body moved precisely, perfectly attentive to what was happening around her.

"I'm writing my epitaph."

"Eppy-taff? What's that?"

"Words for the dead. Sort of like a good-bye."

"But you're not dead, Maydune!"

Maduin said nothing to this simple truth, spoken by the voice of innocence. What could the girl know of the life he had lost here, the price he had paid for his arrogance? Dune Karn was dead for all intents and purposes. The body of the man was gone, the place it had called home reduced to ashes, and the love of family and friends ripped away forever, far beyond his gruesome reach. Yes, Maduin knew what it was to die.

"It's still a long way to the Karnak mountain range, and even farther to Zwill." Maduin replied, politely ignoring the girl's piercing words. "Are you thirsty?"

"Of course, it's so hot out here!"

"I'm sorry, sometimes I forget how hot or cold it is. My body's pretty tough. Here, drink."

Instead of pulling a container full of water from his pack, he simply snapped his fingers. A cold breeze swirled from nowhere, and in a moment a chunk of ice was slowly spinning at the tip of Maduin's finger. Without a word, the ice flung itself into the waiting hand of the girl, a perfect fit to her tiny palm. She gripped it without surprise and brought it to her mouth, savoring the life-giving water as it melted in her hand.

"Thanks!" The girl chirped happily, sucking on her ice shard. "Here you go, Kumiro! You drink too!" She held what was left of the ice in the direction of the orbiting moogle, letting it lick the ice out of her hand.

"Kupopo!"

"Alright, we better get going. I've done what I need to do. Let us be off, Elphis."

"Yay! Let's be off! No more sand. I'm sick of icky, dirty, sand."

Maduin reached around and held out his free hand to the girl, letting her climb up onto his stone-hard back with a push. She grabbed onto one of the spikes that protruded from his shoulders and held tight. The moogle shuffled its way next to her, gripping the spike on Maduin's opposite shoulder just as tightly.

"Ready?"

"Yeah! Blast off!"

"Kupoooo!"

In a flash of blue light, the three were gone, flying over the rippling dunes in leaps and bounds faster than any man or beast could hope to keep up with. At this speed it would be less than a day before they reached the other end of the desert, far to the west. The Karnak mountains wavered dimly in the distance, far out of reach for a normal band of travelers. But this was no ordinary band of wanderers, and sooner than might be believed, they would reach the next leg of their journey, the port town of Zwill on the other side of the rapidly approaching mountains.

Ultimately, they were headed west, and then deep into the south, to the twin cities of East and West Jidorik. It was there Maduin's destiny awaited him, for better or worse. He may be free to choose the path he took now, but the troubled region of Jidorik was calling out to him. He could not ignore the ominous rumors that were pouring out from that part of the world. Black things were afoot there, and he knew his newly gained Esper powers might be able to avert another disaster before it was too late. He was unsure of his place in the world now, but the tragedy of his homeland of Narsille could never be repeated, and of that Maduin was absolutely sure.

The lonely Esper glanced back at his makeshift tombstone, now only a tiny speck in the distance. The sun glinted off the glass of his old spectacles, a teardrop of light to bid him on his way, and to give him hope. The words that were etched into that stone were etched into Maduin's mind, words that should never be forgotten by the men of this world.

_Here lies the hopes, dreams, and loves of a man. Ignorance and pride were his downfall, and forever shall he be parted from the light. Woe to those who would seek the power of the gods, for even gods may fall. Rest In Peace, Dune Karn - 2134-2166._

As the rock disappeared over the horizon, Maduin thought back to the strange series of events that had brought the light of hope back into his life, in the form of a blind orphan named Elphis. He had been ready to vanish into the pages of history, nothing more than a half-glimpsed legend in the frigid snowfields north of his ruined homeland. The story of the man Dune Karn may be over, but it seemed history was not quite done with the Esper Maduin...


	82. The Wanderer, 'Alone'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**Part 9.2 - Alone**

A mournful howl echoed through the icy mountains of Narsille, startling Maduin from his slumber. It was still the middle of night, and once again Maduin had been forced from his lonesome dreams by the piercing sound in the distance. Every night for the past month he had heard this howl, but it still made him uneasy whenever it woke him. The haunting cry was like nothing of this earth, filling the night sky with the sound of an entire pack of blood-thirsty hounds. Despite his formidable frame, Maduin still felt fear every time he heard it. Part of this was atavistic, but part of it he knew was because of the direction of the sound. It was coming from the south, dangerously close to Antissa.

The town of Antissa lay to the south of the once-great city of Narsille. It was a tiny hamlet, only a few thousand strong, but it held a special place in Maduin's heart. This sleepy village was the birthplace of Mae, the woman he had called his wife in another life. H suspected that this was where she had escaped to after the destruction of their home, but he was far too afraid to find out for sure. His heart ached deeply for her, especially up here in his frozen exile among the wilds of the Narsillian tundra, but he knew there was no going back to that time, or back to Antissa. Dune Karn might have been able to arrive out of the blue and sweep her back into their life together, but for the beast Maduin, there was no hope. He knew if he took one step into that village, he would be run out of town like the monster he was.

Maduin listened as the strange howl sounded again, like a clock tolling the hour. It was no use. Until the howling stopped, he would not be able to sleep. Not that he slept much these days. When he had first come here three months ago, badly injured and exhausted, he had slept almost constantly. Once he had recovered from his wounds, though, he found it almost impossible to sleep. The freezing temperatures didn't faze his equally cold body in the least, and the ferocious beasts that roamed the area knew they were no match for the giant that had invaded their territory. The only creatures that even tried to intimidate him were the prickly vomammoths, great bear-like creatures with tusks like a mammoth and the temperament of a wild boar. After a few scuffles that Maduin won handily, they learned to keep their distance from him, and the other animals of the region followed suite. Now, everything living left him alone, forgotten.

No, Maduin found it difficult to sleep because the only things he dreamed of were either the lost times from the past, the impossible hopes of the future, or the frightful reality of his present condition. How many times had Mae's face, contorted with fear and loathing at the sight of him, rose up to remind him how much she despised the monster he had become? How many times had he watched his own hand mortally wound his closest friend, Captain Bismark? How many times had he felt the searing pain of raw magical energy rip through his seemingly impenetrable flesh as his former ally Draco, now the dragon Bahamut, attacked him with a hatred he would have though impossible from the loyal knight? And worst of all, how often had he seen his own hideous visage appear before him, taunting him with its inhuman features?

The tired Esper rose up from the snow drift he had used for a bed, and wandered through the wilderness, a dark-skinned phantom in the pale moonlight. There would be no more sleep for him tonight, and perhaps that was a good thing. His body did not need much sleep, and even less nourishment, and that made for a very boring life alone in the mountains.

Curious to see if he could spot the source of the incessant howling, he slowly made his way back towards the steep hill that overlooked the valley where Narsille once lay. Along the way, several floating blue clouds of gas latched onto him, apparently attracted to the magical energy his body exuded. He swatted them off his back with an annoyed swipe of his claw. These were the only things that paid him any attention now, and he wasn't sure what to make of them.

The blobs of glowing gas seemed alive, and moved with a primordial instinct that reminded Maduin of the single-celled organisms he had studied back in school. As a former archeologist, he knew all the creatures, both modern and ancient, that inhabited the region, but to these entities he could give no name. For the time being, he simply called them "vaporites" since they seemed to be made of nothing more than wisps of vapor. The way they seemed to feed off his magical energy disturbed him, though. He had the feeling they had only started manifesting themselves after the catastrophe at Crescent Mountain had released the uncontrolled power of magic into the world. If this was true, then who knew what other side effects may be disturbing the balance elsewhere in the world?

One place that had already felt the hammer of magic unleashed was the ruined land that now spread out below him. Even through the thick haze of smoke that covered the valley, Maduin could easily make out the devastation of his homeland. Only a scant few of the famous mythril towers of Narsille remained standing above the smoke, and all of them were half-way to collapsing, blackened with the soot, and completely uninhabitable. The very air of the city was now a poisonous smog, and the streets nothing but hardened lava, with the occasional river of fire snaking its way from one pit of molten rock to another like a glowing web.

Ash many layers deep covered everything that wasn't on fire, masking the carnage just underneath and giving a smooth desert-like appearance to the landscape. Massive pillars of fire would gush from the giant pits every so often, reminding Maduin that the landscape was not completely dead, and that something insidious still lurked beneath the surface. The demonic Esper, Sade, or as he called himself now, Crusader, had turned the beautiful paradise of Narsille into a nightmare of death and despair. The entire region had been transformed into a tribute to Crusader's unseen god - the Master of Fire, Moloch, or as he was known by the Order of the Pearl, the Vengeful Poltergeist.

Maduin could only guess what unspeakable atrocities were being committed under the fiery lash of this Poltergeist, just beneath that world of ash, but he had had a brief glimpse once, and knew the fallen Master was readying himself to wage war on the other two would-be gods that had been banished to the mortal realm by the true Masters of this world. One of them he was intimately familiar with; the Master of Ice, Chemosh, or as Maduin had come to know him - Doom. This foul demon had once controlled his mind and body, and was the cruel tempter that had led him to the wretched fate as an Esper that he now found himself in. The third member of this triad was the Mistress of Lightning - Astarte, simply called the Goddess by the foolish souls who worshipped her. Fools like Jonah Levi, now the Esper Leviathan.

Together, they were preparing to bring an end to this world, in the hopes that the victor of their petty quarrel would be able to fashion the mortal realm as they saw fit - a monument to their own power and essence. Maduin was unsure of the details, but he knew that in order for the god-like triad to manifest themselves in the mortal world completely, they needed sacrifices of living bodies to craft their mortal flesh - a great many sacrifices. If Crusader's words were to be believed, many thousands of people must be given up to the inert statue-like forms the banished gods now resided in before a proper vessel could be created for their immense power. The magical might these false gods would possess if fully revived would dwarf even the power of the Espers, and Maduin shuddered to think what kind of havoc they would bring if allowed to complete their bloody rituals.

Even Espers like Maduin were not exempt from this gruesome rite, and Maduin knew he, too, might be attacked and captured at any moment, to be fed to the dark god Moloch. He had escaped from Crusader's clutches once, but he knew the vengeful Esper would never allow Maduin to remain free for long. Every day Maduin expected to see the horrible trio of Espers that made up the full might of Crusader rise up from the cloud of ash and finish what they had started deep under the streets of Narsille. So far, nothing had stirred from the valley below except that ghostly howl.

The holy relic known as the Nacre that Maduin always wore around his neck had saved him on the day he had escaped, but he had felt nothing from the string of glowing pearls since his escape from the burning city months ago, and feared the words of the mighty Esper known as Adamastor were true. Maduin was free from the control of the gods now - both the corrupt ones that currently plagued the lands, and the true ones that had guided him in his journey up to this point. Without the support of such powerful allies as Elia, the Maiden of Water, Altimus, the Holy Master, and even Uranos, the Master of Storms and Gaeus, the Master of Earth, Maduin felt he was hopelessly outmatched against the Esper armies of the fallen Masters. What could one lone Esper do against the hordes being assembled throughout the world now?

_Nothing. I am worthless. _Maduin thought as he gazed out over the valley of death beneath him. _I was unable to do anything as a human, and I am unable to do anything even as an Esper. I wasn't able to save any of my friends. Bismark is dead by my hand. Alex, Indie, and even Draco are all monsters like me now, under the control of the fallen Masters. And Mae...Mae couldn't even stand to look at me without being horrified. Now I think I am beginning to understand why Genju exiled himself for so long. We Espers will never have a place in this world. We are truly alone..._

Maduin fingered a small stone as he though of his predicament. This stone was the remains of another Esper, a piece of what was called magicite. This was the magicite of the Esper known as Titan, dead now for almost a thousand years. According the Genju, Espers could still communicate through their magicite even after death, but Titan remained silent to Maduin's touch, just as he had for Genju. Sometimes when Maduin was feeling especially lonely, he would talk to the magicite, hoping it would respond, but it never stirred. Genju might have been mistaken, or perhaps Titan felt Maduin simply wasn't worthy enough to waste his time with. Maduin couldn't argue with that idea.

As Maduin stared dejectedly into the softly glowing red core of the magicite, he heard a strangely familiar sound nearby. He glanced around, but only saw the mass of vaporites that had been bothering him, bubbling close by. The muffled sound continued, but Maduin couldn't place it. Looking back down at the magicite, he wondered if this wasn't Titan finally trying to speak from the other side.

"puuuh..."

No, that did not sound like a mighty Esper of Earth. It sounded like a small child crying, or...

"puuh...kupeh..."

Maduin listened, and realized that the sound was coming from the growing cloud of vaporites. Suddenly, it hit him.

"Hel...p...puuuu.."

There was no doubt now. Maduin rushed at the vaporites and yanked them away, revealing an unexpected surprise.

"Kumiro?"

Lying in the snow at Maduin's feet was a sorry sight. It was the moogle Kumiro, Professor Indie's faithful companion, but he was in dreadful condition. He was half-starved and his fur was singed in multiple places. Small bites and scratches that Maduin knew were from the silver lobos that lurked in the area covered the still plump body of the poor moogle. One bite mark in particular stood out on the moogle's side, far too large to be a lobo's. Something even larger than a vomammoth had gotten a hold of the poor creature, and had left a nasty wound that needed dressing badly. And perhaps most disheartening of all, his bright red pom-pom had been cut clean off, giving the moogle a wretched appearance even his normally upbeat facial expression couldn't mask.

At the sound of Maduin's rumbling voice, the frightened moogle tried to jump up and fly away, but was too weak. It merely flopped back into the snow and rolled away from Maduin slowly. The vaporites gradually began to surround the moogle again, their delicate blue tendrils gripping any part of him they could reach. Why were they so interested in the moogle, and not Maduin?

_This moogle must be partly magical in nature, like an Esper, and the vaporites are trying to feed off of him like they did with me. Indie always said this little guy had mysterious powers. And hadn't Kumiro known Maduin was dangerous before anyone else?_

As his scientist's mind pondered the sight he was witnessing, Maduin continued to bat the annoying bags of gas away from the defenseless moogle. He could tell the vaporites were taking their toll as he watched Kumiro's struggles grow more feeble with each passing moment. Finally, he grew tired of trying to wave off the pests, and created a large chunk of magical ice a short distance away. As he suspected, the vaporites flocked to the source of pure magic, throwing themselves at the ice in a frenzy.

"Ku..."

"It's alright, I'm here Kumiro," Maduin said as softly as he could, remembering the negative reaction the moogle had displayed the last time they had seen each other.

The moogle opened one of its swollen eyes and looked up into the face of its rescuer. It closed its eyes tighter, and tried to crawl away from Maduin.

"Pu...b.a.d...baaad...not...Du...ne..." the moogle sputtered in broken sounds, struggling to form human words to get his point across.

Maduin sighed, not surprised. Why should the moogle trust him now any more than he did before? It didn't matter, though. If Maduin didn't help Kumiro, he would surely die out here, either sucked dry by the relentless vaporites, or devoured by the lobos...or by whatever else may be lurking out there.

"Sorry, pal, but you're coming with me whether you like it or not," Maduin said as he plucked the beaten and battered moogle off the ground as gently as he could. He cradled the tiny thing in his arms like an infant, and ran back to one of the caves he used on occasion. He could hear the howling of the lobos behind him, and above them, the demonic howl of the unknown creature of the night. Maduin didn't have time to think about those sounds at the moment, and rushed his patient back to the safety of the caves, where he could hopefully do something to help for a change.

Over the next few days and weeks, Maduin did his best to nurse the moogle back to health, but it was slow-going. The wounds had begun to heal, and Maduin could even see a tiny bud of red beginning to form at the end of the long hair where the pom-pom once stood. Unfortunately, the moogle was not gaining any strength back, and still feared Maduin for the demon he once was.

Maduin continued to care for the creature, but he was beginning to suspect the problem was beyond something physical. The vaporites had drained magical strength from the moogle, and despite the steady healing of its physical wounds, it remained weak and listless. If Maduin's theory was true, he had no idea how to restore lost magical energy. His own power seemed inexhaustible, and even after the fierce battles in Narsille, all it took was a few nights of solid rest and he had felt energized again. What was the difference with the moogle?

"Kumiro, you have to trust me," Maduin pleaded after several more weeks with no improvement, "I'm not the same Maduin as before. I am Dune. You have to let me help you. What do I need to do?"

Kumiro shrank back from Maduin's rough voice, but not quite as sharply as he used to. The vile persona of the original Maduin had done a good job of impersonating Dune, and it was difficult for the moogle to believe that entity was gone forever. But hour after hour, day after day, the new Maduin had chipped away at the wall Kumiro had put up, and was slowly rebuilding the trust they had once shared.

"Ku...po...?"

"Yes, that's it. You have to trust me, Kumiro. The old Maduin is gone, banished back into the shadows it formed from. All that's left is...me. Dune."

"Duuuuune..." The moogle slowly opened its eyes to look closely at the towering Esper standing watch over him. His growing pom-pom twitched reflexively, as if it were tasting the aura around Maduin. The moogle twitched this way and that, turning its head in every direction as it studied Maduin inch by inch, hunting for even the slightest presence of the cold, heartless aura it had felt before.

"Well?" Maduin asked after almost an hour of watching the ball of fur twitch, flutter, and dance its way from the tip of his horns down to the talons on his feet.

"Kupo!" The moogle yipped, and flew around Maduin rapidly, landing right in the nook of his spiked shoulder like a resting bird. It was visibly exhausted from all the movement, and rested comfortably against Maduin's neck.

Maduin smiled, the first time in a long while. "I'll take that as a yes." He carefully petted the resting moogle, relieved that it let him touch it without cringing.

"I still don't know how to restore your lost magical energy, though." Maduin said, watching Kumiro struggle to breath as it rested on his shoulder.

"Po..." Kumiro sighed softly, turning over so that its face was looking directly into Maduin's. His little claws fingered the Nacre around Maduin's neck and his pom-pom twitched as he inspected each individual glowing pearl.

"Kuku!"

"I don't understand you. Can the Nacre help?" Maduin shook his head. "I haven't sensed anything from it since I escaped Narsille. I think its power has left me."

"Kukukuku!" The moogle scrunched up its face, and formed the word it was looking for very carefully. "Maaamaaa..."

It was always strange to hear human words come out of that little mouth, but there was no mistaking what it had said.

"Mama? Mother? I still don't understand." Maduin said, scratching his head.

"Give!" Kumiro blurted.

Maduin didn't know what the moogle was getting at, but shrugging his shoulders, he took the string of pearls from his neck and passed it into the eager little hands.

As soon as the Nacre was in Kumiro's hands, it began to glow brighter, bathing the moogle in a soft white light. The moogle placed it around his own neck, despite it being far too large for him. The light continued to flow around him, and Maduin could see it was flowing into the moogle's body. Somehow the moogle was transferring the magical energies locked deep within the pearls into his own body.

"Kuku!" Kumiro said happily. For the first time since Maduin had seen him here, he was looking like his old, bubbly self.

"How did you know the Nacre could restore you?" Maduin asked, not expecting to get any kind of answer that would make sense to him.

"Mama!" Kumiro repeated, leaping off Maduin's shoulder and flying around the cave it had called home for almost a month.

Maduin smiled, not understanding the mysterious creature one bit. A riddle for another day, he supposed. All that mattered was that they were both back to full strength. A nasty scar remained where the great arc of the bite wound had been, but beyond that the moogle was almost fully healed.

"How did you get that bite, Kumiro? Nothing around here is large enough to do something like that."

Now the moogle shuddered, as if he were looking at the evil Maduin once again. "Baaad...big!" He covered his eyes with his claws, hiding from the unpleasant memory.

"Big, bad what?" Maduin prodded, hoping the creature's limited vocabulary could give him some idea what might be lurking out there.

Kumiro struggled to find the words he was looking for, but eventually murmured in a slow squeaky whisper, "Dog! Big dog!"

"A dog? You mean the lobos? They couldn't do something like this. The animal that attacked you would have to be the size of a small house to leave marks like that!"

"Big! Big! Big!" Kumiro said louder, getting more comfortable with the word. "Big bad dog!"

Then it hit Maduin. The howling in the night that sounded like an army of wolves coming from the south. That must be the unknown beast.

"Kumiro," Maduin said carefully, wanting to make sure the moogle understood him. He still wasn't sure exactly how smart this unusual creature was, but it seemed he always underestimated it. "Did you come from the south? From the village of Antissa? Is that where the big dog is?"

"Kupo! Bad dog! Kupo!" Kumiro pointed directly towards the village of Antissa, due south, nodding its head.

Maduin knew the moogle had an uncanny sense of direction, and so he wasn't surprised that it could pick out the direction of the village as easily as pointing at the moon, even inside the cave. Now he was wondering if this "big bad dog" wasn't another consequence of the wild magic, like the vaporites.

"Is it attacking the village? What's happening down there? Are the villagers safe?" A growing feeling of dread was rising in Maduin's chest. What if Mae was in danger again? Was there anywhere in the world that was safe now? What if she was already...

"Tell me!" Maduin almost shouted before Kumiro could put his response together. He flinched at the bestial voice, and said nothing.

Maduin slumped down, worry gnawing at his stomach. He had been hearing the howling roar for nearly two months now, and had done nothing. If he were to go to Antissa now, would there be anything left to save or would he find another smoldering ruin like Narsille?

"I'm sorry...please, tell me anything you can. Mae might be down there, and I have to know that she is alright."

Kumiro gathered his strength back up, and nodded, trying to look brave. "Kupo. Dog come...night only." The words were difficult, but the moogle forced them out. "Dog take...people."

"And Mae?" Maduin pushed, fearing the worst.

"Mae...kupo..ku..." Kumiro struggled to find the word he was looking for. "Kupo! Mae there. No take."

Maduin breathed a huge sigh of relief before realizing that the moogle had been stuck in this cave for a month, and anything could have happened in that time.

"Kumiro, I have to get down there and find out what's happening. I should have done it a long time ago, but I had given up. Lost my way."

Maduin stood up and turned towards the mouth of the cave. "Stay here and keep out of sight. This time, I'm going to put this Esper body of mine to good use. Whatever this creature is and whatever it's doing, I'm going to stop it."

_Stay safe Mae. I'm coming._


	83. The Wanderer, 'Antissa'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**Part 9.3 - Antissa**

As Maduin arrived at the foot of the great Narsillian mountain range, he expected to see the village of Antissa abandoned, under siege, or perhaps in flames. The shadow of the giant snow-capped mountains could be seen rising beyond the town, and between two peaks the colossal mythril gate of Narsille still glittered in the distance, steadfastly shut ever since the day the city fell. Nothing went in or out of those impenetrable gates now.

What Maduin saw as he approached Antissa, however, was a very different sight than he had prepared himself for. Everything looked...normal. Maduin didn't dare go barging into the city in broad daylight, looking like he did. But from his safe vantage point he could plainly see people busily moving about their regular affairs, talking, shopping, tilling crops. He could hear the laughter of children running through the streets, the bleating of livestock in the fields, the general hum of a healthy town. If this town was being attacked each night by some vicious giant beast like Kumiro had suggested, they showed no signs of it at the moment. The only monster here now was Maduin himself, and he didn't like the idea of disturbing the peaceful world with his unwanted presence.

Maduin knew all wasn't as calm as it seemed, even without the dark rumors of a wandering creature of the night. The downfall of Narsille had had a ripple effect across the entire region, reverberating its destruction throughout the continent. A city of millions, the technological center of the civilized world, and a major force both economically and militarily, Narsille's sudden disappearance off the face of the earth was only beginning to be felt in the months since the disaster. Maduin had removed himself from the human race, but even in his seclusion he could see the coming tide of chaos ebbing closer each day.

The most immediate concern was the never-ending stream of refugees that had managed to escape the city. Many lives had been lost, but a seemingly impossible number of survivors were still spreading into the wilds outside of the fallen city's walls every day. Small towns like Antissa couldn't hope to support these throngs, and most people were turned out, forced to wander ever further away from their former home. Even now, Maduin could see small refugee camps dotting the plains outside Antissa. He was sure such makeshift communities filled the land from Antissa all the way to Jidorik far to the south, and beyond. Maduin had even seen some desperate people attempting to live in the same icy reaches as himself. As far as he knew, none of these sad souls survived for long in the unforgiving landscape he called home. In time, there would undoubtedly be ex-Narsillians inhabiting every corner of the globe, each one assimilating into their new culture. Narsille's own history and culture, its great accomplishments, would fade away and its very name forgotten. Maduin wondered if he would live to witness all these changes, an eternal outsider like Genju, watching the world move on while he stayed the same. It was an unpleasant thought.

Another lingering consequence of Narsille's destruction was the vacuum of power it left behind. Narsille had been a bastion of peace in its time despite its isolationist tendencies, keeping the entire continent in relative stability with its overwhelming technological superiority. The deadly long-range missiles of Narsille could reach any city on the continent, and wipe them out in a single day. They had never actually been used, but no one dared to disturb the sleeping giant, and all quarrels were kept local, and settled quickly and quietly. The heavy-handed treaties Narsille's extinct Committee for the Preservation of Peace had forged with the many competing city-states of the volatile Doman continent to the east and the ancient empire of Cremona on the southern continent would be meaningless as well without the power and resources of Narsille to back them up. All the lesser nations of the western continent that had been protected under Narsille's aegis were fair game for foreign powers now, and they would soon all descend on the weakened continent like vultures.

The worst fighting by far had been in East and West Jidorik, far from Narsille, but even they had kept up the appearances of peace until the recent civil war instigated by the power-hungry Prince Ralse of East Jidorik. With Narsille gone, the uneasy truce following Prince Ralse's defeat dangled by a thread, and full-blown war might erupt across the region at any moment. Maduin had an interest in what was happening right now in those cities, since he knew the ruler of West Jidorik, Draco Christophe, was now an Esper like himself. An Esper fueled by rage and despair, but still determined to be a king and a bringer of justice. Maduin did not know where Draco, now the dragon-like Esper Bahamut, had gone after their battle in the skies of Narsille, but his homeland of West Jidorik seemed the most likely destination. With the fallen Master Maduin had come to know as Doom guiding Bahamut's thoughts and actions, he shuddered to think what the dragon king's homecoming might be like.

Maduin didn't dare follow Bahamut, since the maddened Esper had sworn to destroy him, and very nearly succeeded. Maduin still had a deep scar along his stomach where the dragon's powerful blast had wounded him. He knew the other remaining Espers were surely still out there as well, slaving under the influence of their own Masters and spreading the false gods' magical war across the planet. Despite this, he remained hidden; free, but exiled. There was nothing to be done on his own, and, looking at Antissa, he wondered if anything needed done after all. The town seemed to be running normally, but he couldn't be sure from this distance. He had to get closer and find out what was happening not only here, but in the rest of the world while he had been away.

There was only one place in Antissa Maduin could hope to go and not cause a panic, and fortunately it was the only place he wanted to see at the moment. Quickly and quietly, he made his way down to the wall that surrounded the town and leapt over it with the ease of a giant hare. From a distant memory of happier times, Maduin traced a route by memory through back roads and alleyways towards a small cottage he knew would be there. Narsille may have had mile-high towers of shining mythril, paved roads filled with automated buses, and all manner of technology and machines at every corner, but there was something special about the earthy one-story houses of plain brick and wood, with thatched roofs and only cobblestone paths between them. Places like the humble Antissa had a soul that the sterile, closed off world of Narsille lacked.

Wandering the streets of the town again after so many years, even if they were only the hidden back-roads, somehow made Maduin feel a little more human again. It was here he had first met the beautiful raven-haired Mae Karn, then Mae Laperdeau, here he had fallen in love with her, and here he had asked her to marry him. A strong and very human urge to find the secluded hills and sunlit paths where Mae and he had shared their most intimate feelings welled up inside him, but he knew he could not be seen. That was another life, another person.

"Who's there!" a tiny voice yelled from directly behind the reminiscing Maduin.

He had seen no one, heard nothing, but standing directly behind him at the other end of the alley he had hidden himself in was a small waif of a girl, no taller than Maduin's knee. She was alone, and despite yelling in his direction, her eyes were unfocused and looking right past him, to some unknown point far in the distance. Maduin whirled around, expecting to see something even more hideous than himself on his other side, but the two were the only living things standing in the narrow alley. He looked back, perplexed, where the girl still stood tapping her bare foot impatiently, and seemingly not bothered by the sight before her. Surely she could see his ten foot frame blocking out the sunlight across the entire alleyway?

The two stood across from each other in silence for almost a minute, the girl waiting for a response, and Maduin not daring to give one. If the sight of him didn't faze her, his rumbling, feral voice surely would.

"Well?" the girl finally shouted, her little hands curled up into fists on her hips and her long brown hair swishing as she turned her head sharply to the side in frustration. "Quit being mean! I know you're there! I could hear you breathing from a mile away, and you stink like a vomammoth! Say something!"

Maduin was unsure what to do. For some reason, the girl couldn't see him, but could apparently hear him...and smell him. He had never thought about how he smelled, but he supposed a monstrous body must have a monstrous odor to go with it.

"Uh...hello?" Maduin mumbled as calmly and quietly as he could. It still sounded horribly inhuman to his ears.

The girl jumped at the sound, but didn't seem frightened. "Well that's a weird voice you got there, mister. I don't recognize it but you sound big. You one of the wanderers from the north?"

Maduin suspected she meant all the Narsillian refugees that were surely descending on the town night and day for aid. "I suppose I am. Who are you?"

"I thought so! They all smell bad too. Like rotten chocobo eggs or something, pew! And they talk funny, but not as funny as you.." The girl continued talking in her innocently frank way, unconcerned with the very confused giant looming over her.

Maduin wasn't sure what to make of this strange apparition. He looked closely at her, studying her up and down, staring intently in a way that most people would be bothered by, even if he were just a human. She didn't move an inch or even acknowledge that he was looking at her. She just stood there, hands on hips and her doll's face curled up in a scrunch of displeasure as she babbled on about the smelly Narsillians.

Cautiously, Maduin took a step away from her, wondering if she would even notice his absence. He was eager to find the house he was looking for before the sun set and the rumored creature of the night made its appearance. He wanted to know what it was that was plaguing the town before he took any action that might make things worse.

Suddenly she stopped and turned her face straight at the receding Maduin. "Whoa there, mister! Hold it! Just cuz I'm blind doesn't mean you can walk away while I'm talking. Man, you're funny-sounding, stinky and rude too!"

Now it made sense. Maduin almost wanted to slap himself for not noticing the strangely glazed eyes earlier. No wonder she could hear and smell so keenly. He stopped backing away and began to walk towards her, much less afraid than he was before.

"I am sorry. So what's your name, little girl? And why are you here all alone? Where are your parents?"

She didn't budge as Maduin walked towards her, his heavy step shaking the ground and sharp taloned feet clacking against the cobblestones. Anyone watching this scene would think the girl about to be devoured by a demon.

"The name's Elphis. Don't have any parents, and no one has time to notice me now that the wanderers are everywhere, hogging everything." She lowered her voice and put her hand over her mouth like she was telling him a secret. "And there's a big dog that's been bothering us lately, too! It smells just like the stinky wanderers from up north, like rotten chocobo eggs! I think it came from the same place as them! When I smell it coming, I hide quick. If I were you I'd hide too, mister...?"

"Oh sorry, I didn't tell you my name, did I?" Maduin felt oddly at ease. He hadn't enjoyed a normal conversation with anyone ever since his transformation. "My name is...," he paused, unsure what to call himself now. It felt wrong calling himself Dune. That man was gone.

"Call me Maduin." He said finally, deciding to stick with the name Doom had given his Esper form. It was who he was now, after all.

"Maydune?" the girl said, giggling. "That's a funny name, but I guess it fits a funny person like you. What kinda shoes are you wearing anyways? Sounds like you have claws on your feet like a dog. And boy, you must be really big the way the ground moves when you walk!"

"I, ah..." Maduin hesitated. The more they talked, the more likely it was that she would realize he was not quite human. But she seemed to know what was going on around here despite her disability. He decided to take a chance and see what she knew, brushing off any comments about his Esper form. Besides, he liked the girl. She was brimming with youthful vitality and optimism, despite her surely unhappy and difficult existence, and Maduin felt he could learn something about making the best of his circumstances from her.

"So, Elphis, you're an orphan? No one takes care of you? How do you survive?"

"Ah, it's not so bad." Elphis said nonchalantly. "Never knew my parents, and no one else seems to know who they were either. They say I was just left here one day as a baby, no note, no nothing. Been alone on the streets for most of my life. Nobody wants to take care of a blind kid for long, you know?"

She stopped and smirked, and Maduin expected her to be upset at the way her life turned out, but she was just smiling and chatting happily.

"Anyways, I learned how to survive, stealing fruit or bread or even meat when I could. People never suspect a little blind girl. It's too easy!" She laughed, a high tinkling laugh that made Maduin smile despite himself. "And now that there's all sorts of strange people around, it's even easier. I've never ate so well!"

"What about this big dog you spoke of? Aren't you afraid of it?"

"Nah, it stinks, remember?" Elphis said, puffing up. "I can smell it coming even before the rest of the town knows its here. They try to see it in the dark, but they can't, so they get caught. And it makes a lot of noise too. Kinda sounds like you, actually. But bigger, and with four clacky feet. It makes a sound like a whole pack of lobos when it howls, too. Kinda scary, but it hasn't noticed me yet. I'm good at hiding. You didn't notice me either when I came up behind you."

"But what is it, and where did it come from? What's it doing here in a place like Antissa?"

"Boy, you ask a lot of questions mister! And where did you come from, hmm?"

Maduin wanted to laugh at the girl's precociousness, but he did his best to stay serious. "I'm from the city in the north, Narsille. Do you know what happened to it?"

"Yeah, they say a big fire burned it down or something. A volcano, or an earthquake, or a big storm happened, too. Nobody knows for sure, but nobody can get in and find out now that the gate's shut." The girl lowered her voice to a whisper again, and stood on her tip-toes to get closer to where she assumed Maduin's lofty head must be. "And they say that big dog guards the gates, too! They say anyone who gets too close gets eaten up!"

"Really? Has anyone seen this dog? Why is it attacking Antissa?"

"More questions! Well, I don't mind. Nobody ever wants to talk to me except to tell me to scram, anyways. This is fun! But yeah, people have seen it. Obviously I haven't, but they say it's as big as house, and all black. Plus, get this - they say it has three heads! I don't know about that one, but it sure sounds like it might when it howls all night."

"Three heads? How's that possible?" Maduin wondered about such an abomination. Was this nightmare really another result of the wild magic flowing over the world now, or something else? The vaporites were small, simple-minded, and mostly harmless in small numbers, but this creature was something else entirely.

"How do I know! That's just what they say. Most of the people that see it are the ones that get taken away, so it might not be true."

"Taken away? Where?"

"Don't know. Nobody does. It comes in the night, grabs whoever it can find, and then vanishes until the next night. The people it takes never come back. Some people have talked about trying to group together and fight it, but how do you fight something like that? If everyone just hid like me, it would go away. Grown ups can be really stupid sometimes."

"Will it come tonight?" Maduin's questions were persistent, but the girl didn't seem to mind. She liked having someone to talk to just as much as Maduin did.

"Probably. It's come every night for the past two months. Everyone tries to act like nothing's wrong during the day, but they're starting to get really scared. Not me, though. I'm just gonna keep hiding, and sooner or later it will go away." She stopped and craned her neck back to peer up into Maduin's face with those unseeing eyes, a hopeful smile on her face. "Hey! You seem like you're a pretty tough guy, Maydune. Why don't you join the grown ups that're gonna try and fight the dog tonight?"

Maduin chuckled to himself. They would just as soon try and fight him if he offered to help. But, he didn't come here to hide.

"I definitely want to have a look at this creature tonight, but I think I'll do it alone. I can take care of myself in a fight, don't worry about that."

"You're stupid." Elphis said with the perfect bluntness of youth. "You might be big, but he's way bigger, and meaner. He may have to take a couple bites, but he'll eat you up just like everyone else. If you won't join the rest of the grown ups, I would just hide. Besides, I like you. I don't wanna see you get eaten, Maydune." The girl's honesty was touching.

Maduin felt his chest tighten as he looked down at the girl's sweet face staring up at him with its big blue eyes and promises of friendship. It was true, too. The two had taken a strange liking to each other in the little time they had spent talking to each other. Now he had one more person on his conscience to protect here. But how to protect the poor abandoned girl when no one wanted her?

"Elphis, do you know where the Laperdeaus live?" Surely Mae wouldn't turn out the girl?

"Yep. They live right over there. Their daughter just came back, and she's real nice, but a little sad. The mom's really mean, though. I wouldn't stay with them if I were you."

Now Maduin laughed out loud, a deep and rich laugh that boomed through the alley. The girl giggled too at the odd sound his laughter made. "Yes, Mrs. Laperdeau can be tough to handle, but I think we should both go there tonight. I'll make sure they take you in and keep you safe, you have my word." Without thinking, Maduin put his clawed hand out and patted her affectionately on the head, forgetting her acute awareness of his body's sounds, smells, and movements.

If the girl noticed the sharp claws and the stone-hard hand that was cold as ice, she didn't say anything this time. She just let him touch her like any kind-hearted adult, and spoke in the same light-hearted tone as before.

"I dunno. People don't like taking in the wanderers nowadays. Some think it's their fault the dog's been attacking us. Like, they did something to make it mad or something. I don't think they'll let you or me stay with them."

Maduin wasn't sure either, but he had to try. He couldn't go blundering into their home like he did his apartment when he tried to rescue Mae, scaring them all half to death. No, he had to be more subtle this time, and perhaps Elphis's presence would make things easier. The little girl was right about Mae's mother, though. Mrs. Laperdeau was a tough old woman, set in her ways, and not afraid to speak her mind. The thought never crossed his mind that Mae would rebuff him once she realized it was truly her Dune, but her mother was another story. But...he had to try. This was what he came here for, and even if he had to drag Mae away from her home kicking and screaming - again - then that was what he must do. It might not be the best course of action, and he hoped it wouldn't come to that, but night was coming fast, and he had little time to convince the whole family that his intentions were pure.

"Come, Elphis," Maduin said softly. "You may be surprised to know this, but the Laperdeaus are old friends of mine. Once they recognize me, I'm sure they'll help me, and I will make sure they help you too. No one should have to live like this."

"Really?" Elphis's blank eyes were wide with hopes of being cared for again. Without a word, she searched for and grabbed Maduin's beastly hand like she would any human adult, squeezing it tightly. "Will you stay with me, no matter what?"

"No matter what."

And Maduin meant it.


	84. The Wanderer, 'Family Reunion'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**Part 9.4 - Family Reunion**

Maduin watched as Elphis effortlessly maneuvered between the buildings and streets of Antissa, making her way towards Mae's house without hesitation. He half-wondered if she really could see, and was just playing a trick on him. Shrugging his shoulders, he cautiously kept up with her, keeping out of sight as best he could.

"How do you know where you're going?" Maduin ask in his raspy whisper.

"It's easy. I've lived on these streets practically my whole life, remember?" Elphis said lightly over her shoulders, zipping around one corner then another. One hand lightly grazed along the walls of whatever structure she was closest to, giving her a constant feel of where she was at all times.

Maduin had to agree with Elphis's assessment. He could feel the old memories inside him, urging him down the correct path even now. If he closed his eyes, he was sure he, too, could navigate Antissa just as easily as the blind girl.

The small cottage of the Laperdeau's soon appeared before Maduin's eyes like a welcome mirage. It was hard to believe the house hadn't changed at all in the intervening years. The thatched roof was still in place, despite the gradual move towards tiled roofs that had swept the town in recent years. Antissa had always been a backwater village, but its people all dreamed of someday being part of a more cultured city like the giant Narsille that had always hovered on the horizon. Only the old-fashioned or just plain stubborn citizens refused to remodel their houses after the more modern homes of other larger towns. Citizens like Mrs. Laperdeau.

Out back, where Maduin approached the house from, a small garden of carrots and lettuce still grew tidily in well-kept rows. As he carefully crept between the rows, a small rabbit with ears that looked like the leaves of a plant jumped out from behind one of the lettuce heads and tried to scamper away.

"Watch it!" Elphis said, skillfully getting between the squeaking rabbit and its escape route. She grabbed it up in her small arms and rubbed her face in its fur while it struggled to get free. In a moment it had hopped from her grasp and disappeared.

"Those leafers are always nosing around in Mrs. Laperdeau's garden. It's fun trying to catch them and fluff their fur!"

Maduin smiled. "I remember when I used to try and catch leaf bunnies here, too."

The two reached the back door of the Laperdeau house without disturbing anything or anyone else. Instead of knocking, Maduin simply stood at the door, not moving. This was it. How was he supposed to convince them he wasn't a monster, especially with a very real monster roaming the streets? He had no idea. He simply stood and stared at the wooden door, unable to act.

"What're ya waiting for? Knock!" Elphis exclaimed finally, breaking the silence. Without further ado, she banged on the door herself, heedless of the fact that a ten foot beast-man stood right next to her.

"Elphis!" Maduin hissed, leaping aside and out of sight just as the door opened. Elphis made no indication that she even knew he had left her side.

A tall, middle-aged woman with iron grey hair and sharp features stood rigidly in the doorway, looking down at the little girl with an imperious glare.

"Hello? Oh, it's you Elphis. What do you want? We haven't got any food for you, if that's what you're here about. Go on, shoo!"

Maduin could hear the harsh tones of Mrs. Laperdeau around the corner of the house. Like the house, Mae's mother hadn't changed one bit since the last time he was here. Her grey hair was slightly greyer, and her sharp features slightly sharper, but she looked and sounded exactly like the domineering mother-in-law Maduin remembered from his younger, happier days. He said nothing, letting Elphis do whatever talking there was to be done.

"Nah, I don't want food." Elphis said happily, not fazed a bit by the stern voice above her. "I brought a friend with me. He says he's friends with you and Miss Mae."

Mrs. Laperdeau arched one eyebrow at this, peering around the back of the house. "I don't see anyone here. Quit playing your tricks with me, girl."

Elphis sighed exaggeratedly, as if Mrs. Laperdeau were the one playing around. "He's right here!" She waved her hand where Maduin had been only a few seconds ago, grasping only empty space. Her face turned downwards in confusion as she waved both hands where she thought Maduin was.

"Elphis, I don't have time for this. It's almost dark, and you know how dangerous it is out here at night. Go on and find someplace to hide, and leave us in peace!"

Elphis stopped searching for her invisible friend and turned her head upwards into the face of Mrs. Laperdeau. "But he's here! He's really big and he's gonna fight the monster tonight! Oh, Maydune, where did you go?"

Mrs. Laperdeau stepped back into the house suddenly, wrapping her shawl tightly around her. "What did you say, girl?"

"My friend! He was right here! His name's Maydune and he said he was friends with you." Elphis began walking around the small area outside the door, sniffing the air. "He smells kinda like the wanderers from up north, but kinda like a big vomammoth, too."

"May...dune?" The old woman looked around suspiciously, trying to see what it was the girl was babbling about. "What does he look...oh, blast it, never mind. You wouldn't know what he looked like, would you?"

Elphis kept walking and sniffing, getting closer to where Maduin was hiding. Maduin wanted to end this and reveal himself, but he couldn't will himself to move out from the shadows. Mae's mother always had this effect on him, and now more than ever. In her overwhelming presence, he just wanted to run and hide.

"Of course I don't know what he looks like." Elphis said impatiently, inching her way towards Maduin. "But he's really big, and his skin is sort of hard and cold, like a rock. I dunno what he really looks like, but he's nice, and he _said_ he would never leave me!" Elphis raised her voice as she said these last words, hoping to lure her companion from wherever he had hidden himself.

"Maydune! Where are you?" Now Elphis was yelling, her thrusting hands grabbing in the shadows right next to Maduin.

"Enough, girl! I don't know what you're going on about, but it's far too late for this. Good-bye!" Mrs. Laperdeau had been shaken by Elphis's appearance and words, and quickly retreated back inside, getting ready to slam the door shut. Just as she tried to shut the door, a low voice rose from the shadows where Elphis stood waving her hands.

"Wait."

Mrs. Laperdeau nearly jumped out of her shawl at the unexpected voice, but she stayed her hand, leaving the door half open. "Who's there?"

"Mrs. Laperdeau, it's me..." Maduin hesitated, wondering if Mae had told her mother about what she had seen in Narsille.

"Me who? Show yourself!"

"It's Dune. Dune Karn." Maduin's voice was barely audible, but even so, it still sounded harsh and guttural.

Mrs. Laperdeau stood motionless in her doorway for a moment. She did not seem surprised at this pronouncement, in fact, her suddenly tired-looking face gave the impression that she had been expecting this. Her sharp features softened, and her voice was barely a whisper when she finally spoke.

"Are you really him? Are you really my daughter's husband?"

"I am. Is Mae there? Is she safe?" Maduin started to step out of the shadows, but checked himself and crept back. Not yet.

"Mae said you were dead. She said a demon came and took you away. She was raving mad when she came here, you know. Didn't know what to believe and what were delusions. And now, here you are..."

"I..." Maduin started.

"No." Mrs. Laperdeau cut him off sharply. "Whoever you are, you are not Dune Karn. That man is dead, and my daughter is just beginning to recover from whatever hell she went through in Narsille. I won't have her being disturbed. Leave us."

Elphis turned back and forth between the two voices, trying to figure out what they were talking about. She didn't like the way the conversation was headed. "Please let us in! Maydune's not a bad guy, really!"

"Girl, mind your manners. You should know not to drag strangers to people's houses."

"Mrs. Laperdeau, please listen," Maduin said urgently. "I am Dune Karn. Something happened in Narsille that changed me, but it's still me."

"Then why are you hiding? Show yourself!"

Elphis had found Maduin by now, and was tugging at the ragged leftovers of clothing that hung at his waist. "C'mon Maydune, just let her see you."

"Yes, let's see the famous Dune Karn." Mrs. Laperdeau said mockingly.

Maduin didn't like the goading sound in Mrs. Laperdeau's voice, but he knew she was going to see him eventually. There was no way inside the house except through her.

"I warn you, my appearance is...unusual. But you have to believe me, I am still Dune Karn." Maduin said a little louder, unmasking the strangeness of his voice.

"You sound like a beast, that's for sure. Well let's see you, then."

Maduin slowly took one step out from the shadows, exposing a single dark leg of gigantic proportions. The talons dug into the soft earth, and the thick muscles tensed in anticipation of the gasp he knew he would hear.

Mrs. Laperdeau's eyes widened, then she quickly looked away as if she had seen something obscene. "So it's true..." she muttered under her breath.

Maduin began to take another step, when Mrs. Laperdeau's voice stopped him. "Enough. Stay where you are. I won't have a monster in my house."

"Maydune's not a monster!" Elphis said fiercely, grabbing and holding onto Maduin's hidden hand tightly. "C'mon, show her what you look like!"

"No!" Mrs. Laperdeau shouted louder than she had intended. "No," she repeated softer, "Whoever...whatever you are, stay there." She sighed heavily. "Why have you come here? Mae is happy, she's getting better. You're not needed here. Leave, please."

Maduin sighed as well. Was he needed here? He was just about to vanish back into the shadows when he heard another voice from inside that sent a spark of electricity through his body.

"Who's there, mother?"

Mrs. Laperdeau looked back quickly, then shot a cold glance at Elphis and her hidden companion. "Now look what you've done. If Mae is hurt because of you..."

"I would never hurt her." Maduin said firmly.

"We'll see about that." Mrs. Laperdeau turned her head away from the unwelcome guests and spoke quickly to her daughter.

"Now, mother, we can let Elphis stay here for one night." Mae's soft voice echoed out from the house. It sounded tired and feeble.

"Mae, you know what she is. She's likely to steal whatever she can get her hands on."

"Don't be silly." Mae's face appeared at the door, her long black hair hanging down past her shoulders. Her face was pale and thin, and she had dark circles under her eyes. "Do you want to come in for the night, Elphis?"

"Only if Maydune can come with me." Elphis said stubbornly.

"May...dune? Who?" Mae's voice stuttered nervously over the name. She looked outside to see this Maydune, but saw only shadows.

Elphis tugged at Maduin's hand, trying to pull him into the light. "He's...right...here! Come on!"

She pulled enough. Maduin's claws glittered in the fading sunlight, and Mae's eyes went wide with shock.

"Is that..." She said, her voice failing. She stumbled and fell against her glowering mother's side.

"It's me, Mae." Maduin said as softly as he could.

"Mother...let them in! It's Dune!"

"Please, you're just imagining things again. Go back inside, dear, and get something hot to drink."

"No!" Mae said with more vitality. "Let him in, mother! Ah..." Mae fainted as she spoke, her light body falling into her mother's arms.

The look Mrs. Laperdeau gave Elphis and the still partly hidden Maduin would have wilted flowers. "You did this." She turned and marched back inside, half-dragging Mae with her. But she did not close the door.

"If you're coming, then get in here. I don't even want to look at either of you."

Elphis yipped with joy and dragged Maduin stumbling into the light. The giant form of the Esper slowly revealed itself, letting Elphis drag him all the way into the house. Mrs. Laperdeau was already inside, not wanting to have anything to do with the two of them. Maduin had to stoop low to fit inside, and his horns scratched the ceiling of the house, bringing small snatches of straw down wherever he went. But he was finally inside a human house again, and it felt wonderful.

"Ah, doesn't it feel nice to be indoors again, Maydune? It's so nice when there's no wind or cold!" Elphis said, echoing Maduin's thoughts.

"Yes," Maduin said in low tones, not wanting to disturb anyone. He felt out of place here, but there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Looking around, Maduin noticed that the inside of the house was as unchanged as the outside. The same pictures hung from the walls, the same furniture sat in the same positions. It was like walking back in time. The only difference was the perspective. Maduin could feel his immense size far more acutely in the cramped room, and was unable to sit or rest against anything without fear of smashing it. For the time being, he simply stood crookedly in the middle of the living room, feeling as awkward as he had on his first date with Mae.

Elphis suffered from no such dilemmas, and happily flitted from one chair to another, enjoying the soft cushions one by one. Eventually she settled in front of the large fireplace, warming her body with a pleasure and ease she was rarely afforded.

"Come here and get warm! Your body feels so cold, you must be freezing all the time!" Elphis shouted to Maduin.

Maduin turned to face the fire as Elphis commanded, but only felt a distant ember of heat through his thick, cold skin. One of the realities of this new body was that he could no longer feel heat or coldness like an ordinary human. Only the most extreme temperatures could penetrate his Esper flesh.

"I'm fine, but thank you. I don't feel cold like you do."

Now Elphis crooked her head in Maduin's direction, a serious look on her face. "You're different, aren't you, Maydune?"

Maduin cringed at Elphis's simple words. He knew she would bring this up sooner or later. "I am different from you, and other people, yes. But that doesn't mean I'm a bad person."

Elphis smiled and turned her head back to the flickering flames. "That's alright. I'm different too. People treat me differently because of my eyes, and I bet they treat you differently because of the way you look. That means we got to stick together, right?"

"I suppose that's right." Maduin replied carefully. "But aren't you afraid of me? If you could see me, you might not be so carefree about calling me a friend."

"But I can see you just fine, Maydune." Elphis said smartly. "I don't need eyes to tell what someone looks like in my mind. I can hear you, feel you, smell you, just like anyone else. You were nice to me, and I don't care what anyone says, you're my friend! And that's that!"

"So you can tell that I look like a monster?" Maduin asked, surprised at the intelligence the little girl showed.

"What does a monster look like?" Elphis responded quickly. "I don't know what one looks like, so how do I know what to be afraid of? You don't act like a monster, and that's what matters, isn't it? Just relax already!"

"Hah, I suppose you're right." Maduin laughed, surprised at the girl's reasoning, and her faith in him.

Elphis was silent for a moment, her blank face staring emptily into the fire. Then she spoke up again, quieter than before. "So what are you, then? You're not like other people, but you're not a monster like the big dog that attacks us at night."

"I'm what is called an Esper." Maduin answered, then thought for a moment on how to explain further. "Elphis, do you believe in magic?"

"Sure, why not?" The girl didn't even flinch at the question. It was a question only an adult would have to think about.

Maduin laughed again at her quick and simple answer. If only he had had such a simple view of the world, perhaps he would never have allowed things to progress so far. It was his stubborn refusal to see the truth that was in front of him that kept him on the path to his own destruction. Pride and knowledge went hand in hand, and for Dune Karn, his own self-satisfied knowledge of the way the world was supposed to work blinded him from the evil that had slowly consumed him.

Now Maduin stood before the girl as a child himself, open to the infinite possibilities of a world he admitted he knew nothing about.

"Well then," Maduin continued," I'm made of magic. I used to be a normal human, but I was stupid, and was turned into an Esper as punishment."

"Yeah, adults are stupid sometimes." Elphis said, getting up and walking over to where Maduin stood uncomfortably. She grabbed his hand with both of hers and said softly, "But that's alright, we're all stupid sometimes. I forgive you, Maydune."

Something stirred inside Maduin at this child's blessing. It felt as if he really was being forgiven for his sins, and without realizing it, Maduin's eyes filled with tears. He gripped the tiny hands with both of his, and knelt down so that his eyes were level with Elphis's.

"Thank you. You don't know what it means to hear someone say that to me."

Elphis took one of her hands and lightly brushed the tears away from Maduin's eyes. "Don't cry, Maydune. We're friends, remember?"

"How did you...?" Maduin stammered, wondering how she knew he was crying.

"Tears smell salty."

Maduin couldn't help himself, and hugged the little girl tightly, being always careful not to crush the fragile thing in his arms.

"Aw, stop that!" Elphis said, her own voice growing thick.

From the shadows between rooms, a small man silently watched the two interacting. He disappeared without saying a word, apparently seeing all he needed to see.

In another room, Mrs. Laperdeau tried her best to soothe her daughter.

"Mae, please. That...thing out there is not your husband anymore. You don't have any obligation to him now. Please, just go to bed."

Mae was resting on her bed, but her eyes were wide open, and a look of pain filled her pale face. She shook her head vehemently, not wanting to listen to her mother's words. "No! I left him, I have to make it right somehow. I have to see him..."

"There's nothing of the man you married left," Mrs. Laperdeau said calmly. "Think about it, dear. You can never have children with that, you can never feel any human warmth from it. What possible happiness could you find clinging to that monster?"

"He's not a monster!" Mae yelled feebly, only half-believing her own words. Her mother was right, and she knew it. Her future with the cold beast in the other room was a bleak one. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just rest, dear. Go to sleep and let your mother take care of this." Mrs. Laperdeau ran her fingers through Mae's long, black hair, now damp with sweat.

Just then, the small man appeared in the doorway, looking at the two women intently. He was middle-aged, like Mrs. Laperdeau, but shorter and with softer features and a balding pate. This was Mr. Laperdeau, Mae's soft-spoken father.

"For what it's worth, I trust him." The man spoke calmly, but there was a note of fear in his voice as his eyes darted out the window. "I'm going to be leaving to join the rest of the men soon. I wouldn't mind having him by our side. He might be the only hope this town has of driving off that beast. You know that, Elle."

Mrs. Laperdeau snorted at her husband. "He's just as likely to destroy the town as save it. I don't trust anything that comes out of the mountains nowadays. He's a monster, and you're too soft to realize it, just like Mae."

"We'll see." was the only reply the patient man gave to his wife. He left as silently as he had came, off to prepare for the coming battle against the unknown enemy that would soon visit the village.

Mae opened her eyes weakly, looking at her mother. "Will father be alright?"

"He'll be fine. And don't worry about a thing. We'll get rid of that monster this night." Mrs. Laperdeau looked out the window at the darkness. "We'll get rid of both monsters."

Back in the living room, Elphis was nervously sniffing the air, sensing something only she could smell.

"Maydune," she whispered, "I smell it."

Maduin looked out the window, and saw that it was now dark outside. "The big dog? Is it near?"

Elphis nodded.

"Then I had better get going. You stay here, understand? No matter what you hear, do not leave this house."

"Alright, but be careful. That doggy's real mean! He'll eat you up, even if you are magic!" Elphis was still holding tightly onto Maduin's hand.

Maduin rose as high as he could, gently taking Elphis's hand from his. "I'll be back. Friends, remember?"

Elphis nodded again, then went and sat by the fire, not looking at Maduin as he went for the front door. She didn't want him to see her crying. She had finally found a friend who didn't treat her like an unwanted burden, and now he was going off to fight, probably to die. Adults were so stupid.

As Maduin approached the door, a fearful howl filled the air, doubling, then tripling as one voice became three. The sound of the village's men rushing out of their homes to organize their small army joined the howls, creating a fearful din of coming violence.

"Will you fight with us?" a soft voice sounded from the other end of the room. It was Mr. Laperdeau, his soft voice echoing from behind Maduin as he reached for the door.

Maduin whirled around, surprised to see Mae's father standing behind him, a crude blade in hand. The man was obviously scared, but not of Maduin.

"I, Mr. Laperdeau...do you know who I am?"

"Will you fight with us?" Mr. Laperdeau repeated.

"Yes. But..."

"Then that's all I need to know." Mr. Laperdeau said curtly, cutting off any pointless explanations. "You always did ask too many questions. Come on, let's join the rest of the men folk outside. We'll only have one shot at this. Got it?"

Maduin was confused, but relieved that he was being trusted so easily by his father-in-law. "Right. Lead the way."

As the two men walked out the door and into the street, now lit by a hundred angry torches, Mae's frail form wavered in the archway at the other end of the room. She could barely stand, but she wanted to see with her own eyes the two men leave. She knew she may never see one or both of them again.

She was still unsure what she was supposed to do with her life now, but she knew she still loved the man called Dune Karn. The only question was whether she could find that man in the monster now walking into battle with her father.

"Be careful..." she tried to shout. Her voice was broken and hoarse, and neither man heard her as they stepped into the night.

The little blind girl sitting quietly nearby heard her, though, and walked over to where Mae had propped herself against the wall. The two held each other's hands in silence, waiting anxiously to see what would happen next.


	85. The Wanderer, 'Dogs of War'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2 - The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**9.5 -Dogs of War**

The moment Maduin stepped outside to face the unknown beast plaguing Antissa, he knew the meaning of the scent Elphis had described as "rotten chocobo eggs". The pungent odor filled the night air and, as a scientist, he recognized the smell instantly. It was the unmistakable aroma of sulfur gases, a common scent found around volcanic vents. Now that Narsille had been turned into a seething cauldron of fire, it made sense that anyone or anything coming from that region, including himself, would carry this unpleasant scent.

Another series of howls roared through the village, and Maduin braced himself for action. Mr. Laperdeau and the other men of Antissa had already organized themselves into a small army of a few hundred, and were marching with whatever weapons they could find towards the northern edge of the town, where the beast always appeared. Short swords, pitchforks, torches, and as many guns as could be found, primitive by Narsillian standards, were in every hand.

Maduin had not joined the mob at his father-in-law's request, for fear of panic. For now, he would wait just behind the men and attack only when the beast showed itself. He would prove his loyalties directly by fighting by their side, a guardian spirit of sorts. Actions would do far more than words, and there would be no time for uncomfortable questions about where he came from in the heat of battle. Maduin hoped that as soon as the men saw his power, they would back away and leave the fight to him. If this creature was as dangerous as Elphis claimed, their feeble weapons would do nothing against it. And if it was of a magical origin, as Maduin suspected, then only another magical being would stand a chance of defeating it. Or so he hoped.

When Maduin reached the northern gate, he could see the villagers standing in a thick mass, blocking any entrance into the village. Try as he might, he still could not see the source of those infernal howls, but he knew it must be very close. The sulfurous scent was almost overpowering now, and the tripled howls were deafening roars. But even with the light of the twin full moons and a blazing wall of torchlight, nothing but blackness could be seen beyond the gate.

There was one more proof that the beast was close, though, and it was something Maduin alone could feel. Like the tug of the wretched gravity crystal he once wore, he could feel the pull of some immense magical force approaching Antissa. It felt different from the frigid grip of Doom that had reached out from within the crystal. This energy was hot and rage-filled, a vengeful presence his body instantly associated with Sade, and his fiery Master, Moloch. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn it was the Esper triad of Crusader itself gliding down from the mountains of its stronghold to attack the tiny village. Whatever this creature was, it was undoubtedly an emissary of Moloch.

Maduin snuck as close to the group as he could, ready to leap into action at the first sign of battle. He did not want any of the villagers to get hurt, least of all Mae's father. His magical senses told him the creature must be right outside the gate now, but still nothing could be seen. The howls had stopped abruptly, but Maduin felt that only meant the creature was getting ready to make its strike. Maduin was not used to battle or violence, and the surge of blood he felt coursing through him at the thought of a real fight him made him nervous. His strange powers were still too new, too untested. If he did fight this creature, was he sure he could control himself?

Before Maduin could answer this question to himself, an angry snarl rose from just in front of the wall of villagers, and the ground trembled. Now something was plainly visible and audible, galloping towards the puny humans, shaking the earth with each bound. Two glowing coals of eyes gleamed in the darkness, then two more appeared on their right, and then a third pair blinked on the other side. Arcing gouts of flame burst from three blood-red mouths, and the stink of sulfur gas belched forth with each exhalation of fire.

And yet, the pitch black body of the charging monster still could not be seen. Only its six glowing eyes, three bloody mouths, and flaming breath were visible to the terrified men. The fighters were unsure how to handle their invisible adversary, and did the only thing their instincts dictated. With a wild cry, the entire body of warriors surged forward, ready to collide with whatever mighty force was hurtling towards them. Gunshots rang out from the men in the rear, hoping to hit a target they could only guess at.

Maduin knew he had only seconds to intervene, and with a burst of blue energy he leapt over the town wall and threw his body directly towards the right flank of rushing villagers, where he felt the magical energy of the beast most. A sickening crunch of colliding bodies ahead of him told Maduin he was too late to completely avoid involving the townsfolk, but there was no stopping his momentum now. As Maduin finally caught a glimpse of the rapidly approaching monster, he knew everything Elphis had said about it was true. Horribly, impossibly true.

It was easily the size of a house, even larger than the Laperdeau's humble cottage. The sheer size of its bulk distorted its shape, but there was no mistaking the canine features of a powerful mastiff, bred for war. Small patches of decaying grey fur spotted its smooth, heavily muscled body, but it was mostly hairless, putting its unnaturally jet black skin on full display. The thick, segmented tail looked like the long tail of a giant lizard, whipping back and forth in a frenzied anticipation of the kill. And as hard as it was to believe, the hound really did have three separate heads attached to the single massive frame. Each head bore the same look of utter wildness in its point-like eyes, with drool like molten lead dripping from each of their wide maws. Whatever this creature was, it was an abomination.

By the time Maduin slammed into the beast's iron-hard sides, the cloying smell of blood was already covering everything. The initial rush by the villagers had been predictably disastrous, with most of the brave frontliners being either burnt by the flames or crushed by powerful feet and teeth. Swords clanged off the armor-like hide, and bullets ricocheted into the night, but the monster continued its charge unheeded, trampling or biting anything that tried to get in front of it. Screams of the dying or terror-stricken rose over the din of violence, and above all, the alien howls of a creature that should never have existed.

When Maduin made contact, at first it felt like he had done nothing but clang harmlessly off the creature's side, like just another useless pest. But as he continued to push, propelling his body forward like a magical missile, he felt the thick muscles give way. The force of the blow expanded across the beast's flesh in a rippling wave, and it was a full second before it even knew it had been struck by something substantial. Abruptly, it stumbled to the side as it ran, rolling over several unlucky fighters before righting itself. The tripled look of surprise in its three pairs of eyes told Maduin he had definitely made an impression on the beast.

For a moment, the battle ceased and all was quiet, save the wails of the dying. The remaining villagers stood stock still, staring at not one, but two nightmares before them. Maduin stood on one side of the blood-soaked field, and a dozen yards away on the other side, the giant hound stood quivering with rage, steam rising from its superheated skin. All three heads snarled at this unexpected new arrival with tight grimaces. Short bursts of flame shot from three rapidly dilating snouts as the beast caught its breath. The cold gleam of an intelligent mind calculating a new variable appeared on all three faces. Then the creature spoke.

"Who are you..." the middle head growled in a low voice so feral it was almost unintelligible.

Maduin was so shocked at hearing the creature speak, he simply stared at it like the dumb animal he had assumed it to be.

The creature let out a fiery bark from its left head, then repeated the question impatiently. "Who are you!"

Maduin stumbled for his voice, not expecting any need to communicate with the monster. "I am Maduin, protector of this village. Leave this village and do not return, and no harm will come to you!"

All three heads barked in laughter at this pronouncement. "Ah...I know of you, Ex-Herald. I am known as Cerberus, Esper of Moloch, and I have claimed this place for the mighty Crusader. A worthless traitor like you has no business here. Leave!" The last utterance was more bark than word, and as Cerberus spoke, it reared up on its hind legs, all three heads arched upwards, mouths gaping.

Before Maduin could respond, a great flood of flames spread from the three heads, covering the entire span between the two battlers in a sea of red, orange, and yellow. Several more villagers were caught in the blaze, and screamed horribly as they were burnt to cinders. Watching them, Maduin could feel his blood rushing in his ears, anger filling every corner of his body. Such reckless carnage was the hallmark of Crusader.

Maduin quickly darted his eyes across the battlefield, looking for Mae's father, fearing he was already lost. He found the haggard-looking man standing near the edge of the flames, covered in burns and with his sword arm hanging limply to one side. Mr. Laperdeau was wounded, but alive. A cool rush of relief washed some of the blinding anger from Maduin's senses, but he knew no one was safe yet.

As the flames raced straight at Maduin, he closed his eyes and centered his own magical energies. Just as the wall of fire should have impacted him, an equally powerful barrier of freezing cold expanded outwards from Maduin's body, stopping it. The two opposing elements clashed, and a cloud of steam obscured Maduin's side long enough for him to conjure as large a block of ice as he could manage, and send it hurtling through the cloud towards Cerberus, who was still standing on its hind legs, belching an endless stream of fire.

The boulder-sized chunk of ice smashed into the mouth of the middle head, eliciting a yowl of pain from the surprise attack, but no obvious damage.

"Cheap tricks won't save you," the dog said angrily from its left head, crushing the remnants of ice in its central mouth as it spoke. It shook its shaggy heads and leapt into the sky, clearing the field in a single, blindingly fast bound.

Maduin saw the massive shadow of the dog blot out the moon, then felt the weight of a mountain descend on him before he could dodge out of the way. He was pinned in an instant, the vast hulk of Cerberus overpowering him with ease. The stench of its rotten, sulfuric breath was nauseating as it huffed hotly in Maduin's face. Elphis had been right on this point as well - the huge jaws of this monster could easily rip him in half and devour him whole if it chose.

"You escaped once, but you will not again." Cerberus growled right in Maduin's face. "I will take your magicite remains to Crusader personally."

Maduin's eyes widened in surprise. How did this beast of an Esper know about magicite? What had Crusader been doing inside the walls of Narsille since his escape?

Sensing Maduin's surprise, Cerberus barked smugly from his right head, the feverish drool seeping onto Maduin's skin. Even through his rock-hard skin, he could feel the heat of the spittle as it ate into his flesh. The pain was excruciating.

"You are a fool," Cerberus continued, reading Maduin's reaction easily. "You forsook the knowledge of the gods, and now you stumble blindly, as ignorant as any pathetic human. You know nothing of Espers, nothing of our power, of our destiny!"

Maduin wondered what kind of human this fiend had been before he was turned into the Esper Cerberus. Power was a potent drug, and he knew there would be plenty of humans like Sade and Levi who would gladly give up their humanity for the power of an Esper, as grotesque as their forms could be. Which had been this sorry creature's fate? Was he a hapless victim who's inner will could be reached, and perhaps saved like he was, or was he just another power-hungry madman, drunk on the lies of a false god?

"Why are you doing this?" Maduin struggled from underneath the suffocating pressure of the beast's paws.

"We Espers will rule this world once the humans have been eradicated." Cerberus replied, savoring his moment of victory. "Once enough humans have been sacrificed to my Master, he will return and create a world of fire, where only chosen Espers are allowed to live. We will build a glorious new world, and I will be one of the elite, the chosen. And you, you will be nothing but ash!"

Cerberus's mouths opened wide and Maduin could feel the intense heat of oncoming flame from deep inside the monster's throat. He knew even his body would not be able to withstand the blast for more than a few agonizing moments. No matter how hard he pushed up against the giant claws digging into his chest, there was no escape. Maduin wondered briefly what death was like for an Esper...was it the same as a human's death? Would he be able to speak through his own magicite, and warn the world of the madness of the gods?

Maduin prayed silently to Elia, hoping the Nacre would respond as it had when he thought all hope was lost deep in the bowels of Narsille. But nothing happened. The Nacre, still hanging around his neck, remained cold and dead, only a faint glimmer of light flickering in its pearls. It was true then, the gods really had abandoned him. There was no one left to save him now. He had been useless after all. He closed his eyes tightly as the bright flash of white-hot fire filled his vision.

"Hyah!"

The impending rush of fire ceased, and Maduin felt sudden coolness as the great jaws of Cerberus snapped shut in pain. Opening his eyes slightly, his sight blurred by the blinding flames that had threatened to destroy him a second ago, he saw a wave of tiny specks wash over the body of the giant hound. He could just make out the familiar form of Mr. Laperdeau, hacking futilely at Cerberus's side with his pathetic blade, now horribly bent. Shockingly, there was a sharp dagger planted straight through one of the tongues of the beast. Blood dripped from the wound onto Maduin's face, snapping him back to reality.

"No...get away...don't fight..." Maduin gasped. The weight of the giant Esper was still on his chest, but now it was distracted, having to deal with the surprise attack of the remaining villagers. Maduin felt he could wriggle a bit more now that the beast wasn't focusing all its strength on him, but he knew it was all in vain. The foolish villagers would just be slaughtered, and nothing would have changed.

"Get up and fight, you bloody idiot!"

Maduin heard the voice, but couldn't believe it. It was the voice of a woman, clear and sharp like a musical instrument. He had seen no women before, and there shouldn't be any but the strongest men of the village here. What was going on?

A second sharp cry of pain rose from Cerberus as another cruel dagger found its mark in one of the glowing red eyes of its right head. The infernal light flickered out, but the unnatural creature had more than enough eyes to compensate. With a huge lunging swipe, it struck at the source of the daggers, giving Maduin the chance he needed to extricate himself.

With a terrific push, Maduin lifted the left side of the monster forcing it to lose its balance as it lunged at its unseen attacker with its right side. Maduin rolled out from under the toppling mass of muscle, just barely avoiding getting crushed himself.

"It's about damn time!" the harsh voice of the woman rang out from Maduin's right as he got to his feet.

The woman was standing just out of reach of Cerberus's claws, a set of four daggers between her fingers ready to toss with lethal precision. There was a look of impatience on her face as she watched Maduin recover himself, apparently far slower than she desired. But there was also the crazed look of bloodlust in her features that said she might just start throwing her weapons at him if he didn't hurry up. Who was this wild woman?

"A little help, big guy?" She said lightly, completely changing her countenance from anger to glee as she danced out of the way of the rising Cerberus's swipes like a ballerina. Her ginger-colored hair swirled around her as she moved with perfect grace in the face of the hideous beast. With each evasive turn of her finely toned body, she flung another dagger at the enormous Esper, every weapon finding its mark in a vital spot. Two more eyes went dark, one dagger stuck in the upper jaw of an open mouth, and one more was embedded deep in the fleshy armpit beneath the right shoulder as it rose to strike. Cerberus howled in rage and humiliation as it staggered under the relentless assault.

Maduin had never seen anything like it. This unknown woman was the fiercest fighter he had ever seen. A human, going up against an Esper...and winning? From the look of her clothing, she was not from Antissa, and not a wanderer from Narsille, either. She wore an elegant, full-length dress that was as black as Cerberus's skin and flowed around her in perfect time with her movements. It was hardly battle gear, but it complemented her style of fighting beautifully. If she wasn't darting in and out of the clutches of a giant beast, she could easily pass for a noblewoman from some foreign land.

"Who...?" Maduin stammered, at a loss for words.

"Hey, do something! I haven't got an endless supply of these, you know!" the woman yelled as she danced around the increasingly furious Cerberus.

It was true, she only had three knives left, and then the beast could take her at his leisure. For now, the chastened Esper hound was afraid to open his mouths to spit fire, since every time he did, he received another dagger in his throat. As soon as she ran out of weapons, the game would be up.

Around her, the few remaining villagers were doing their best to keep up their attack. Mr. Laperdeau had gone down when Cerberus's tail struck him savagely across the chest and sent him and his weapon flying. He now was kneeling off to the side of the fight, wheezing and clutching his chest with his good hand. The gunners had long since ran out of ammunition, and now joined the rest of the villagers in close combat. What was left of the dwindling band of fighters was still bent on distracting the creature long enough for either Maduin or the mysterious female fighter to have a chance at landing a critical blow.

Unfortunately, the three-headed Cerberus was perfectly capable of dealing with threats from multiple directions, and even while he struggled with the untouchable woman, he was using his tail and hind legs to take out any foolhardy pests from behind. With each passing minute another fighter went down, and Maduin knew he had to do something or these brave people who were giving their lives for him would have done so in vain.

"Ugh! Wake up, Dune!" the unknown woman shouted as she threw her last dagger. It clanked harmlessly off Cerberus's hard central forehead, missing its mark by inches. It was obvious she was growing increasingly fatigued dodging his attacks, and would soon fall like the others. There was no one left on the battlefield now but her and Maduin. The beast smiled across all three faces, and began to open his bloodied jaws, a red hot glow already flickering through his teeth.

Hearing his human name unexpectedly from the woman's mouth snapped him into focus, and Maduin rushed at the towering Cerberus, grabbing one of his trunk-like forelegs as he raised it to pin the breathless woman to the ground and deliver the same fate to her that he had planned for his fellow Esper. Maduin used the beast's own momentum to send it tumbling over his shoulder to the ground in a shower of dust and flames before it could strike.

"Get out of here! I'm the only one that can stop him now!" Maduin roared at the stubborn woman, who was still trying to fight the beast with a fanaticism Maduin couldn't begin to fathom. What was driving this stranger to keep fighting a battle that wasn't even hers?

Seeing Maduin finally get back into the fray, a sudden flash of sanity stole over the woman's face, but not without effort. She realized her situation and nodded gravely, but with a wide smile. She winked, and in the blink of an eye had vanished from the battlefield. Maduin still couldn't believe what he had seen, even as he struggled with the flagging Cerberus. Maduin had no idea who that battle-crazy woman had been, but she had saved his life, and somehow, she knew who he really was. He was sure he would meet her again, if he lived through this night.


	86. The Wanderer, 'Night of Fire'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**Part 9.6 - Night of Fire**

When the dust settled from around the toppling Cerberus, Maduin found himself alone with the beast. The other surviving fighters had given everything they had and retreated, and it was up to Maduin to finish the fight. Violence was not something that came natural to him, however, and it was obvious he was at a disadvantage to the much larger Esper. If he was going to win, he had to stay out of reach of the giant hound's attacks.

Maduin looked at his adversary lying in a heap in front of him like a small mountain. Before Cerberus could rise, Maduin quickly decided the best place to subdue him from was from above. He leapt onto the creature's broad back and dug his claws into the thick ripples of flesh behind the three heads. There were dozens of broken and discarded blades and bullets embedded in the few soft spots scattered across the beast's massive form, but none of these feeble human weapons had done any serious harm. As Maduin dug his claws deeper into Cerberus's back and drew thick, glowing blood, he knew this time the creature felt the pain.

"How dare you!" the dog howled in rage, staggering to his feet with as much speed and force as he could.

Despite the violent bucking, Maduin hung on with every ounce of strength he had in him. All four claws were buried in the beast's back now, and no matter how much Cerberus struggled, he could not tear the pest from him. Nor could he sear him with his flames, or bite him with his cruel fangs. As long as Maduin stayed at the giant Esper's back, he was relatively safe.

"Get off, you insect!" Cerberus raged, whipping his reptilian tail against his back wildly, hoping to swat the bug from him.

But Maduin would not let go. Cerberus rampaged across the battlefield madly, shaking, leaping and rolling in an attempt to crush Maduin underneath him even as he flayed him with his tail. Nothing the beast did deterred Maduin, and through the sharp pain of its tail and the crushing weight of its body, the smaller Esper hung on.

Suddenly, Cerberus stopped his struggles and paused, panting heavily. All three heads were turned south, towards Antissa.

"Enough." the hound growled. "You will not cow me like some wild animal. You call yourself the protector of this village? Then protect it!"

The dog barked a malicious laugh and charged directly at the north gate of the village.

"No!" Maduin yelled from his seat atop the bestial engine.

Just hanging on would not stop the enraged Esper, he had to cause real damage to prevent the monster from reaching Antissa. The only thing he could think of to do was pump as much of his freezing essence into the beast as possible. He dug his claws in deeper, and let his magical aura flow through his body, down his arms, and directly into his hands, fingers, and claws. The cold blue stream of energy disappeared into the bloody wounds, and mixed with Cerberus's own opposing fiery essence.

The effect was immediate and painful, like a shot of poison into the giant Esper's bloodstream. Cerberus shrieked in agony as sparks of blue and red magical energy flitted from his myriad wounds. It was like he was exploding from the inside, and no amount of thick armored skin could protect him from this new assault.

"Tricky bastard...but I won't be stopped!" And despite the searing pain, Cerberus continued his charge into the town, faster than ever.

Maduin watched in horror as the north gate was smashed aside by the much broader Esper hound. Cerberus wasted no time breathing great gouts of flames onto everything he could see, instantly setting most of northern Antissa ablaze. Any structure that got in the beast's way was rammed and flattened. People ran from their houses to escape the fires, only to be trampled by Cerberus as he moved his way methodically through the town.

"See what your pride has brought you? I will destroy your precious village, and then devour every last inhabitant!"

Maduin kept forcing his cold energy into the beast, hoping he would reach a point where the unstoppable brute simply couldn't take the torture any longer. But the Esper was built like a tank, and no matter what Maduin did, it kept on smashing through buildings, walls, people. Maduin suspected he would run out of strength before Cerberus succumbed to the flood of freezing magic, but he would continue until he had nothing left to use. The people of this town had down the same for him.

As Cerberus moved southward, Maduin looked up helplessly from his task to study the devastation, knowing Mae's house was out there somewhere, and sooner or later either the Esper or his flames would reach it. His only hope was that he could stop the wild charge before they reached that point.

Not nearly far enough from the rampaging Cerberus, Mae and Elphis huddled in the dwindling safety of the Laperdeau house, listening to the chaos outside. Mrs. Laperdeau stood beside them, as stolid as ever, but showing signs of fear in her face as she looked out the window and saw only flames in the night. The house shook with every brutal act of destruction Cerberus inflicted on the town elsewhere, and the three knew it was only a matter of time before their house was next.

"That monster seems to be having his way with the town. I told you this would happen, and now we're all doomed because of that fool." Mrs. Laperdeau said angrily.

"Maydune will win!" Elphis said, jumping up and staring at the old woman with her wide, blank eyes.

Mae remained sitting on the floor in silence, struggling to keep calm as she watched her hometown burn around her.

"It's because of your 'Maydune' that this beast is here, ruining our town! If he would have stayed away, the creature would have just came and went without destroying anything, like it always did."

"You're wrong!" Elphis shouted. "The dog was gonna bust everything up sooner or later, and you know it!"

"Well now we'll never know, will we?" Mrs. Laperdeau growled back.

"Enough! Stop it! Please..." sobbed Mae from the floor.

Another explosion rocked the area just outside the house, and the three watched as a towering black mass swept by the window, blotting out the fierce glow of the flames for a moment. The house shook with the force of the passing as if it had been struck, tottering on the verge of collapse. The house had been spared by Cerberus, but everywhere the infernal hound went, a trail of fire sprang up behind it, and soon smoke was curling from just outside the structure.

"Enough is right." Mrs. Laperdeau scowled. "We're leaving before we're roasted alive. You can stay here and wait for your savior if you like, but I'm taking my daughter and getting to safety while there's still time. Max hasn't come back yet, and I can't wait any longer for him. If he's alive, hopefully we'll meet outside of town. Come, Mae."

Mrs. Laperdeau tugged at Mae's arm and brought her to her feet, half-dragging her to the house's back door.

"But we have to wait for Dune!" Mae cried, reaching back towards the front door with her free hand. "Dune!"

Elphis ran up and grabbed Mae's free hand, softly pushing her back towards Mrs. Laperdeau.

"Don't worry 'bout Maydune, he'll be okay. The old bag's right, we have to get outta here!"

Mrs. Laperdeau grimaced at Elphis's rudeness, but she didn't have time to argue manners. She took Mae's other hand and marched out the back door into the garden. Several panicked leafers bounded away from the plants and into the night as Mrs. Laperdeau stamped right across the field, ignoring anything in her path. Mae stumbled behind her, her head always turned back to the house, and the battle beyond it.

"Dune, I'll come back this time, I promise..." she whispered, too softly for her mother to hear in the roaring maelstrom outside.

Elphis did not join the two. She had stayed behind in the doomed house, now beginning to fill with the smoke from outside. Soon, fire would follow the smoke, and the house would burn. Having faced starvation and freezing to death on the streets countless times, Elphis was not afraid of her own death, but she was afraid for her new friend, somewhere out there, alone.

Fearlessly, she walked carefully out the front door, avoiding the flames now licking at the front steps, and ducking below the smoke as best as she could. Despite being blind, the smoke still stung her dead eyes and filled her nose. She coughed as she half-walked, half-crawled away from the Laperdeau house, straight into the inferno.

The wild flurry of senses that bombarded the little girl once she had cleared the smoke was unlike anything she had ever felt. She had assumed she would be able to find her way through the town just as easily as before, but at the moment her senses were completely overwhelmed. The intense heat and constant vibrating of the ground and air from explosions dulled her sense of touch, and the roar of the flames and cries of agony and destruction from a dying town were deafening, even to her. Worst of all, the stench of blood and burning flesh clogged her nose, sickening her to the point of wanting to wretch. This was not the Antissa her well-honed senses remembered. This was the Antissa of her nightmares, a maze of wild sensations that kept her from forming any kind of picture around her. For the first time in her life, she truly felt like the helpless blind girl that she appeared.

"Maydune! Where are you!" Elphis cried out, stumbling from one spot to another, doing her best to avoid any lethal missteps in the conflagration surrounding her. "Mayduuune!"

Maduin was still struggling with Cerberus's wild charge, having managed to veer the monster away from the Laperdeau house at the last second with a savage thrust of claws and a fresh burst of coldness. Maduin himself was now thoroughly battered from the path of destruction, and his icy blue blood mixed with the molten red blood of his mount, creating igneous lumps of black magical glue that seeped like tar onto the ground.

Just as Maduin thought the Laperdeau women and Elphis were safe, he saw a pair of Cerberus's ears prick up, and the head turned sharply back in the directly of the Laperdeau house. There was a malicious grin on its face, and the one good eye peered back at Maduin with glee.

"A friend of yours?" The dog snapped hungrily.

Maduin hadn't heard anything, but it was all he could do to hold on as Cerberus whirled around and began running full steam back towards the Laperdeau house. Now Maduin could see what Cerberus had heard. It was Elphis, tottering through the wreckage outside the house, barely missing one dangerous obstruction after another. She looked like she was completely lost to the world, and Maduin could see the grim look of fatal determination on her face as the two approached the girl unseen, unheard, and unfelt. What had she been thinking, leaving the house?

"Maydune, where are you!" Elphis sputtered, hacking as she breathed in the sulfurous smoke around her.

"He is here, little one..." Cerberus's right head crooned as he slowed his pace to snatch the girl up. "Your heart will be your undoing, human-lover." the left head said smugly.

Elphis gave a short shriek at the sound of the inhuman voice closing in on her, and turned to run. Her foot caught on a piece of debris and she fell face first into the smoldering dirt.

"Elphis!" Maduin cried futilely from behind Cerberus's heads. He had no choice but to remove himself from Cerberus's back. Pushing downward with a blast of his blue aura, he dislodged himself and let his own magic propel him up and over the three heads.

Landing on his feet between Elphis and the oncoming Cerberus, Maduin reached out and prepared to stop the beast with his bare hands. It was stupid and crazy, but he would let himself be crushed before he let this war take another person he cared about.

Cerberus saw the unexpected form of his adversary fall down to the ground in front of him, but had no way of stopping himself at this point, and had no reason to try. He knew he could barrel through the much smaller Esper, and then he could take this one puny sacrifice and return home, bruised and humiliated, but not beaten.

The hound reared all three heads up as its shadow rose over Maduin, the wide jaws opening to meet whatever was in front of them. Maduin braced himself, ready to grab the beast headfirst, and felt the sharp teeth crush into his palms as the endless bulk of Cerberus collided with his hands. The pain was excruciating and the force of the blow incredible, but Maduin dug his feet into the soft earth and pushed forward, both with his own prodigious strength and all the magic he could put into his arms.

His entire body was being pressed into the ground, and he could feel the bones straining and splintering in his arms as Cerberus's heads snapped furiously at his palms. The collision had felt like a car accident, but somehow he had managed to stop the beast in its tracks, and now the two were locked in a vicious embrace. Maduin had one hand clamped down on the right mouth, and one hand on the left, and he was forcing solid ice into the both orifices as fast as he could, choking the beast.

"Elphis, get out of here!" Maduin shouted, turning his head to look at the bedraggled girl still trying to free herself from the burning mass. She had stepped in the gooey tar-like mixture of blood and magic the two had been leaving in their wake, and was stuck fast.

"Impossible! But I will not be denied my prey, traitor." Cerberus's middle head said fiercely, free of the cold grasp that had locked the other two heads.

As Maduin turned his head back, he only time to glimpse a blinding flash of white-hot light as flames burned his eyes. His entire face felt like it had been hit by a blowtorch, and he howled in pain and grabbed at his burning flesh, forgetting all but the red-hot glare filling his vision.

Free from his grip, Cerberus lunged forward, knocking the blinded Maduin over and bounding towards Elphis. In a second he had reached the helpless girl, snatched her in his central mouth, and raced back towards the ruins of the northern gate.

"Maydune! Help!" Elphis cried from between Cerberus's suffocating jaws.

Maduin heard her cry, but could not see anything but a swirling storm of white and red. He stumbled after her voice, but soon that too was fading away. The one thing he could still sense was the huge magical aura of Cerberus, quickly receding back towards the mountains. He couldn't let the beast get away with Elphis!

"Elphis!" Maduin roared, springing straight towards the magical trail being left by Cerberus. He rushed blindly forward, crashing into walls, carts, flames, houses - whatever was in his path. He shot through the crumbling Antissa like a furious cannonball, heedlessly hurtling after his target. All that mattered was catching up to the cowardly beast before he escaped beyond Maduin's reach.

The hound of Moloch was fast, but Maduin in his rage was faster. The subtle glow of the giant mythril gates of Narsille rose up over the horizon, but Maduin could see nothing. All was a painful blur of white haze with spots of red. Every fiber in his body ached with fatigue now, but he kept pushing himself forwards, barely touching the ground as mile after mile of snowy terrain flashed under his feet.

Soon Cerberus had reached the gates, skidding to halt before he slammed into the immovable walls that towered above even him. He roughly dropped the now unconscious Elphis at the foot of his Master's stronghold, pacing nervously back and forth. Any moment Maduin would be here, and despite his bravado, the cur was afraid. He had felt an unfathomable power from the pathetic Esper when they collided, a power greater than even the mighty Cerberus. Was that the power of a Herald? Or was it something else?

"Zona, where are you...? I have the sacrifice!" Cerberus growled piteously into the darkness, speaking seemingly to himself.

'You have nowhere to run now, dog!" Maduin said furiously from behind the confused Esper. He couldn't see, but he knew the direction he had been headed, and knew from Cerberus's aura that the two of them must be alone in front of the gates of Narsille by now.

All three of Cerberus's heads turned frantically in every direction, trying to see something that wasn't there. Convinced that he was not going to receive any unseen help, he turned away from the gate and stared into the burned, bloody face of his opponent. The savage look of focused determination on Maduin's scarred face made the hound cower back in fear before he remembered who and what he was.

"I am an Esper of Moloch! My vengeance is limitless! How dare you stand before me at the foot of my master's realm, and boast! Graoooh!" Cerberus howled at the full moons above, and mindlessly rushed Maduin in a desperate rage. Surely the insect couldn't stop his charge twice!

Sensing another rush from Cerberus's aura, Maduin ducked down this time and curled into a hard ball, his shoulders pointed directly at the beast. He knew his arms couldn't take another collision like that without being shattered to pieces, so he simply protected himself as best he could and prepared for another assault. The enraged Esper had no plan as he stood on the white fields. His only thoughts were on getting Elphis back, no matter what. The two would struggle like animals until one or the other was exhausted, and then...nothing. There were no thoughts beyond this moment of bloodlust.

Cerberus rushed at Maduin with madness in his eyes, and bubbling drool foaming at his blood-drenched mouths. The heat pouring off his body as he used his own super-hot magical aura to fuel his momentum ignited the air around him, turning him into a giant wrath-filled fireball. He did not see or care what his opponent was doing, he simply charged wildly, intending to flatten the insignificant Esper with the force of a train from hell.

When the two met, there was a sickening crack like thunder, then a high-pitched yelp of pain, then silence. The unstoppable Cerberus had gone up against the immovable Maduin, and now staggered backwards in stunned pain. All three heads were gibbering wordlessly through thick gobbets of blood and boiling spittle. A gaping hole had been gouged out of the base of Cerberus's thick neck, where the three heads joined to one body. Blood and fire poured from the hole as Cerberus struggled to speak.

"Grrr...grgrg!" Cerberus gasped, unable to form words from his ruined throat.

Maduin had been knocked back a dozen yards, and was sprawled out on the smooth ground like a rag doll. There was a deep track of upturned snow and dirt between him and the mortally wounded Cerberus. Hissing blood and foamy drool pockmarked the path where Cerberus had stumbled backwards. Maduin was not sure what had happened, but his shoulder ached like it had been smashed to bits.

His vision was still nothing but fire-haze, but he could feel a hot fluid covering the large spike that jutted from his aching shoulder, the one Cerberus had collided with. He could hear the whimpering sounds of a large beast in wordless agony, and he realized the rash beast must have impaled itself on the lethal tip of his shoulder-spike.

Maduin staggered to his feet, calling out for Elphis. But the only sounds he heard were the gasping breaths of Cerberus. The stubborn Esper was not dead yet, though, and Maduin could plainly see the shape of the angry aura still flickering in his mind's eye, as big and hungry as ever.

Reluctantly, Maduin trudged over to where Cerberus lay in a growing pool of boiling blood. All the snow near the body had melted away, and a steaming mist surrounded the rapidly rising and falling mass. There was nothing he could do, and nothing he wanted to do for the monster.

One of Cerberus's giant paws rose shakily and covered the huge wound at the base of his throat, enabling him to force out a few syllables.

"Ki..ll..me.." Cerberus's right head said almost unintelligibly, blood pouring from his mouth and obscuring its words The head fell limply to the ground, no sign of life in its ruined eyes. A dagger protruded from the lolling tongue as it rolled out in a final gasp.

Maduin was sickened at the thought, and refused. "I am not a murderer. You did this to yourself. I won't stain my hands any more than I already have. Unlike you, I have a heart."

"Heart...ha..." the left head said hatefully, then collapsed, joining the right head on the cold ground. Both eyes had been darkened on this head, and a dagger still hung from one of the bloody sockets.

Maduin watched patiently as the life force left each head one by one. It was a pathetic sight, but he knew he had to bear witness to the end. He watched as the red hot aura remained the same size, but dulled to a ruddy color, almost brown. The center head alone refused to fall, and it quivered with dying fury as the one good eye looked straight into Maduin's soul, a hangman's grimace stretched painfully across his canine face as he clutched for each snatch of air.

"If...you will not...then..." the head struggled, barely able to remain coherent. The one red eye bulged with the last embers of life.

"...DIE!" the head roared with the last strength it had.

One last torrent of fire exploded from his mouth like vomit, as much blood as flame. It was not enough to damage Maduin's thick Esper skin, and Maduin stood by unfazed as the paw fell from the mutilated throat, and the fire ceased abruptly. The head lolled hard to the left, in the direction of the silently watching Narsillian gates, then the lone smoldering eye dimmed, dimmed, dimmed...and went out, the final coal in a furnace that had finally been exhausted.

Maduin did not see any of this with his eyes, but as he watched with his magical second sight, he saw something peculiar. The giant magical aura that had been slowly changing color to a thick, muddy brown now turned almost coal black, and began to shrink for the first time. It collapsed in on itself like a dying star, layer upon layer folding inwards like a blooming rose in reverse. It was a darkly beautiful sight, and Maduin wondered what the transformation must look like in normal vision.

Soon the once formidable mass of magical energy was only a small, narrow shape that could have fit in Maduin's palm. He still felt the full force of Cerberus's magical essence coming from its direction, but there was nothing left of the physical shape and form of the Esper that had been known as Cerberus. There was only this lump...this magicite stone.

Maduin took the few steps across the void where Cerberus's bulk had once lain, and bent to pick up the magicite. He wasn't sure what would happen if he touched it. Would it growl and bark at him in impotent rage? He had no idea what was the actual truth behind Genju's claim of fallen Espers speaking from their magicite remains. Titan still refused to reveal any sign that his essence still existed within his silent stone tomb.

But Maduin never found out what would have happened had he tried to claim the magicite. As soon as his weary claw reached out for the stone, an alien voice spoke from just above him, buzzing and metallic.

"That prize is not for you..."

As Maduin watched in second sight, another magical essence appeared out of thin air and snatched Cerberus's magicite remains neatly away. This unknown magical aura glowed emerald green, and was much smaller than Cerberus's. It hovered just out of Maduin's range, oddly flitting in and out of existence like a bad projection.

"Who are you? Are you here to fight?" Maduin said with a false boldness. He was utterly exhausted now, and even though this unusual entity felt much smaller than Cerberus, he was in no shape to fight anything.

"I am Zona, the Seeker of Moloch." the voice rasped in the darkness. Its unplaceable voice sounded like it came from a recording - both distant and inhuman in its tones. He had heard something similar in the mechanical voice of the giant robotic Alexander, but there was still something distinctly organic in the sound of this creature's voice, like the droning sound of a large, buzzing insect.

"I warn you, if you try to harm the girl or the village..."

The voice hissed haughtily, cutting Maduin off. "I am no savage beast like Cerberus, bathing in the blood of my victims. I merely observe, collect, and report. Nothing more."

"Then what are you doing here?" Maduin asked, curious about this new, seemingly pacific being in the service of Moloch.

"Cerberus called, and I came. Too late it would seem." The voice made a whispery sound that Maduin took to be a chuckle, then vanished. It reappeared instantly further away, and Maduin sensed it was now hovering over Elphis.

"A pathetic sacrifice, and one not worthy of my time. You may keep this one, traitor. I have what I came for."

Maduin had tried to reach Elphis as soon as the magical aura appeared beside her, but he was once again stopped by the unnervingly calm voice. Without warning, the emerald essence vanished once again, and this time did not reappear.

The voice echoed into the empty darkness, "Do not follow. Cerberus may be gone, but there are far worse sentinels than he beyond this point. Unless you wish to give yourself to my Master, I suggest you leave this place. Until we meet again, Ex-Herald..."

The voice slowly trailed off, then faded to nothing. Maduin had no idea what to make of this new Esper, but if he was allied with Sade and Moloch, he was an enemy. Their paths would cross again someday, but for now the battle was over and Maduin was alone once more. He had won in the end, but at what cost?

For now, there was nothing to do but take Elphis back to Antissa, and hope she was alright. His eyes squinted in pain as his vision slowly cleared, but at least he had not been permanently blinded by the vicious surprise attack. As he gathered the unconscious girl's fragile body in his half-numb arms and walked back down the mountain trail towards Antissa, he knew what he would see.

Flames still rose from every corner of the now fully awakened town, and alarm bells rang out through the night. His vision was still bad, but he could see specks running back and forth, fighting the blaze. Without their master, the cursed fires would soon sputter and die just as Cerberus had, and the town would survive. But how many innocent people had died, how many homes destroyed? What of Mae? How could she love the monster who had now destroyed both her homes?

Maduin knew he would not be coming home to a hero's welcome tonight, but he soldiered on, his victory over the mighty Cerberus leaving a bitter, empty taste in his mouth. This would be the course of his life now, and he knew he had to accept it, or turn into a vengeful, hate-filled creature as vile as any spawn of the Vengeful Poltergeist himself.

As he looked at the frail form nestled in his arms, he was reminded of why he continued to fight for a race he was no longer a part of. There was still hope in this world, and innocence, and he would not let it be extinguished so easily. Elphis was proof of that, and he would make sure her light would continue to shine.


	87. The Wanderer, 'Love and Hate'

~x~

**Final Fantasty VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**9.7 - Love and Hate**

It was the darkest hour of the night, but the town of Antissa was bustling with activity, and as bright as day. The magical fires of Cerberus still raged, and withstood every effort of the villagers to extinguish them. They were waning without their master's power to fuel them, but nothing the villagers did hastened their gradual demise. In the meantime, Antissa was burning.

Into this chaotic scene Maduin stepped carefully. He knew he was at least partially responsible for this disaster, and did not want to meet the accusing eyes of any townsfolk. Elphis was hurt, though, and he had to find somewhere, someone who could help her. But everywhere he looked, all he saw were panicked people, running from one stubborn flame to another in a desperate attempt to save their homes.

There was nothing to do but quietly help, and hopefully not make a bigger mess than he already had. He knew instinctively that his magic should be able to quench the magic of the dead hound, but he wasn't sure how to go about doing it. And more importantly, he was exhausted. He doubted he had enough power to put out more than a few blazes. But he had to try. This was the closest thing to a home he had left.

Holding Elphis gently under one arm, he tried to cast a wave of coldness at the nearest flame. The attempt was feeble, and it took every ounce of strength Maduin had just to put out the medium sized fire. There was no way he could do this.

Clutching the Nacre at his throat, Maduin once more tried to release its power, hoping for a miracle. The string of pearls glowed at his touch, but Maduin felt no surge of power, heard no heavenly voices, saw no miracles. He let the Nacre go, and hung his head, at a loss. How could the gods be so cruel? Even Elia, who seemed the kindest of them all, was silent to his pleas.

Maduin shifted Elphis back into his arms and moved cautiously through the village. He knew there was a local doctor here, but he knew not whether his house was still intact, of if he was even still alive. Along the way he stamped out what small fires he could, and even grabbed a bucket of water that had been left in the chaos and did what any living thing could do to put out the flames. His attempts were no more successful than the villagers, but at least he was trying. If anyone saw him lurking through the flame-lined streets, they said nothing.

Eventually he found what was left of the doctor's house. It was almost completely destroyed, but the doctor was alive, and treating an army of wounded outside its charred remains. He only had a few people to help him, and very little supplies. Trying to fight off the growing tide of burned, wounded and dying was as impossible a task as trying to put out the fires.

Maduin crept onto the edge the triage camp the doctor had set up, trying not to be noticed. Most people were either too busy or in too much pain to pay attention to anything around them, but one person saw him as soon as he stepped into the clearing. In fact, it seemed he had been discovered even before he stepped out of the shadows.

"You there, Esper, or whatever you call yourself," the voice hissed from a few feet away, as hidden in the shadows as Maduin. "Stay there and don't show yourself, you can't do any good here."

Maduin looked around, but saw no one. In a moment, he felt a light tap at his elbow. Whirling around, he saw the strange woman from the battlefield. She was apparently unharmed, but her face was sooty, and her once-immaculate black dress had singe marks and more than a few holes burned into it. Up close, he realized the woman was not nearly as young as he had supposed from her graceful movements and lithe body. She was in her forties at least, but had the energy of a wild stallion dancing in her face and eyes.

"Stop staring!" She said in a sharp, clear voice that didn't carry one step beyond where the two stood. "If I thought you had a single gil to your name, I'd make you pay for a new dress. If you were any kind of fighter, this wouldn't have happened." She straightened out her tattered dress, grimacing as her fingers found new holes.

Maduin was speechless. The lady was as sharp and to the point as her weapons. "Who...?"

The lady cut him off. "Again with the questions? Just shut up for a moment and let me ask the questions."

Maduin mouth snapped shut in surprise.

"Now then, let me be blunt," The lady laughed primly at her words, as if she had just made a joke. "You are Dune Karn, correct?"

"How do you...?" Maduin began, but was cut off again by a fierce glare from the woman. "Yes." He answered like an obedient pet.

"Where is the Lord Dunn-Raven?" she asked imperiously, a dagger flashing from between her fingers.

Maduin had no idea who she was talking about. "I have never heard that name before. But please...this girl is wounded, I have to..."

"Ah, the girl!" the lady exclaimed, veering away from her question and hovering in front of Maduin to look at his precious cargo. "She is blind, correct? I watched her with you before the fighting began. She has a remarkable feel for her surroundings, and is absolutely fearless!"

"Please..." Maduin said piteously.

"Don't beg to me," the lady said coldly. "Don't ever beg to me, understand?"

Maduin was taken aback by the unexpected callousness. His eyes went involuntarily to the dagger in her hand again. Who was this woman?

Following his eyes, the woman smiled. "Yes, that's right. I am not some sappy woman to fawn over children. I am a killer." Her eyes went back to Elphis. "But, this girl has remarkable potential. The Stradivari could do wonders with her..."

Maduin suppressed his natural inclination to ask who she meant, and simply repeated his request more firmly. "The girl, I have to help her."

"You can do whatever you like, but you will tell me what I need to know first." The woman's face regained its hardness, and she abruptly went back to her questioning.

"I told you, I don't know this Lord you named." Maduin repeated impatiently. He had to get Elphis to the doctor, even if he had to go through this woman to do it.

"Oh, but you do," the lady said slyly. "He went by the cover name Agent Phantom while he was under contract to the Narsillians. His mission was to follow _you_." She pointed one accusing finger straight at Maduin's face.

Maduin thought back to his days following the orders of the Committee, and still drew a blank. He had never heard anyone mention an Agent Phantom. "I still don't know who you mean."

The lady huffed in frustration at Maduin's ignorance. "Hmph, I guess 'Phantom' did his job a little too well. Either that or you're even more oblivious than I thought. His last message to us was that he had come into contact with you directly, but had been repelled and forced to flee. That was almost five months ago, on board the vessel called the Maiden of the Sea, and we haven't heard from him since. Where is he now?"

There was a murderous gleam in her eyes that told Maduin if she did not like his answer, the results could be deadly. But he did remember the unknown intruder from the Maiden, and he remembered an intruder on the Figaro as well. It was believed by the crew that these two intruders were one and the same - a ghost-like figure who evaded all attempts at capture or identification. This must be who the woman meant, and Maduin did indeed know the pathetic fate of her comrade.

"I won't tell you anything until Elphis is safe." Maduin said with a boldness he didn't really feel.

The woman laughed merrily and hid her lethal daggers back in her pockets. "Ah, so the whelp does have a bit of a spine! Good, good!" She stopped laughing suddenly, a very business like look on her face now. "Very well. I will take the girl to the doctor myself and see that she is treated. As soon as she is out of danger, you _will_ tell me what you know."

"Thank you." Maduin said, handing the girl to the stranger reluctantly. He certainly did not trust her, but at the moment, she was the only person offering to help.

"Your heart makes you weak, Esper. If you ever want to realize your warrior's potential, I suggest you rid yourself of it." the woman said, taking the girl from his hands quickly.

"You sound like that three-headed monster now."

"He was right, but he couldn't follow his own advice," the lady quipped coolly. "I saw the way your fight ended, and it was disgraceful. The dog was consumed with his own hatred, and died because of it. Love and hate...both must be discarded to become a perfect warrior."

"I have no desire to become a warrior of any kind. I only want to be left alone, and to protect the ones I care about."

"Very well," the lady said, flipping her wild red hair unconcernedly. "Do as you please, but remember, I will be back tomorrow, and we will talk. Until then...follow your 'heart' and see where it gets you." She turned and left with Elphis in her hands, laughing rudely.

Maduin watched her closely, making sure she kept her promise. True to her word, she gave the girl to the doctor, and then blended into the throng of people, vanishing like a specter in the night. He did not like the woman's attitude, but she had saved his life, and now Elphis's as well.

With Elphis out of his hands, there was only one place left to go. Maduin melted into the wall of flames behind him and made for the Laperdeau's house. He could do nothing about the fire, but it could do nothing to stop him, either. No one would see him by this path, of that he was sure. When he reached the house, he found it half destroyed by the fire. The thatched roof was gone, and there was one wall missing, but the fire guttered out before it could consume the entire house. Much of the village was in the same state. By morning, half the town would be destroyed, but there would still be half a town left to rebuild what had been lost.

As Maduin approached the house, he spotted Mr. Laperdeau picking through the blackened rubble inside. The old man had bandages around his waist, chest, and left arm, and a blood-soaked bandage around his head, but he was alive, and determined to put his life back together as soon as possible.

"Mr. Laperdeau! Are you alright?" Maduin called out, appearing from the flames like a demon.

Mr. Laperdeau started at his name being called, turning warily from his work. When he saw Maduin materialize in front of him, he grabbed his sword in his right hand and waved it threateningly.

"Mr. Laperdeau! Max, it's me...Dune!" Maduin said, startled himself at Mr. Laperdeau's reaction.

Mr. Laperdeau sighed and lowered his weapon, but did not lower his guard. "Dune, why have you come back? Has anyone seen you?"

"N-no...I didn't think my presence would help things. I've tried putting out the fires, but I don't have the strength."

"It wouldn't matter." Mr. Laperdeau sighed again, turning back to his work. "I would leave now if I were you."

"I'm not leaving without seeing Mae!" Maduin burst out. "Where is she, is she safe?"

"You still don't have a clue, do you? Mae is fine." Mr. Laperdeau said tiredly, then shot Maduin a dark look very unlike his usual peaceful self. "As is my wife, thank you for asking."

"I...I'm sorry, but it's been a bit hectic for me." Maduin said uncomfortably, scratching the spot on his nose where he once wore glasses. "I've defeated the monster, and the town is safe from his attacks now."

"Is it?" Mr. Laperdeau said, throwing down the broken picture frame he had been handling. "Look around. It will take years before Antissa is back to the way it once was. And for too many families, it will never be the same. We were lucky, but the majority of the men of the village died in that fight."

"I can't bring back the dead, but I can help rebuild the town. With my power..."

"Your power is the problem! Don't you understand? You're not welcome here." Mr. Laperdeau passed his hand over his face, calming himself. "Dune, everyone knows what you did for Antissa tonight, but they all know what you did _to _it, as well. I have no ill will towards you, but my wife and most of the others don't feel the same."

"Mrs. Laperdeau," Maduin said slowly, thinking. "She's turned the town against me, hasn't she? What has she been saying?"

"The usual things," Mr. Laperdeau replied. "Nothing they didn't already believe. She's been busy while you were up in the mountains."

"And Mae?"

"My child has always been her mother's daughter. She is as stubborn about her opinion of you as Elle is with hers."

"And that opinion is?"

"That you're a monster. And that she loves you. Beyond that, I do not know."

"I have to see her."

"I won't stop you. I can't stop you. But, Dune..." Mr. Laperdeau stopped his work and walked up to Maduin, putting his hand on his son-in-law's cold chest. Glowing blue blood still flowed down his body in tired trickles, passing through Mr. Laperdeau's fingers. He took his hand away, inspecting the strange substance. It was definitely not the blood of something human.

"Don't hurt her." he said at last, turning away and going back to his futile labors. After a minute of silence, he said quietly over his shoulder, "She's out back, tending what's left of the garden."

Maduin said nothing, walking past the man and around the ruined face of the house. He expected Mrs. Laperdeau to jump out at any moment to scream at him, blame him for everything that had happened, tell him to leave and never come back. The woman had never forgiven him for taking Mae away from her quiet life and into the bustling world of Narsille. He was a stranger even then, and even worse, an intellectual. If he didn't earn his bread by tilling fields or building houses, he was worthless in her eyes. Antissa had no use for scientists, and neither did Elle Laperdeau.

But Mae had made her choice, and Mrs. Laperdeau grudgingly accepted it. The woman had her honor, and if her daughter chose to marry someone like Dune, she felt it was Mae's duty to be as faithful and constant in her marriage as Mrs. Laperdeau was in her own. She had put up with the marriage back then, but now she felt Dune Karn was dead, and this ghost from the past had no place here.

The recent catastrophes both in Narsille and Antissa had only cemented her opinion of both city life and himself. Narsille's dependence on technology and the lazy lifestyles of its inhabitants were just as much to blame for the current crisis as monsters like Cerberus and Maduin, according to Mrs. Laperdeau. To her, Dune as Maduin represented everything that was wrong with the world combined into one person, and he knew she would never forgive him now, or even abide him. She would fight him with every weapon she had, and right now her strongest weapon was her own daughter.

Thankfully, Mrs. Laperdeau was nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean she wasn't waiting somewhere, ready to pounce at a moment of weakness. As Maduin turned the corner of the house, he saw what was left of the tiny garden that Mae had always tended with care back when she was young. Mrs. Laperdeau had kept it safe while she was gone, but now it was ruined. Most of the plants were burned to nothing, and the ground charred past the point of ever growing anything again. There was a single resilient rosebush still poking through a small patch of untainted soil in a far corner, and that was where Maduin found his wife.

It was right here where he had first laid eyes on Mae Laperdeau, tending her flowers the same as now. Perhaps that was why she had retreated here, hoping to find refuge in one of the few places with pleasant memories she had left. It almost seemed too cruel to intrude on her moment of peace amidst the destruction around her, but now was the only time he had left.

Maduin walked as softly as his size allowed him. He stopped just outside the garden, and stepped back into the shadows again, not wanting Mae to see him. He would never forget the look on her face the first time she had seen him as an Esper.

"Mae..." he called out from the darkness, watching her raven-black hair jerk back as if he had pulled it. Her head slowly turned around, then stopped before Maduin could see her face.

"Why did you come back?" she said without looking away from her flowers.

"I had to see you. I had to make sure you were safe."

"I _was_ safe!" Mae yelled, her voice breaking. "You shouldn't have come here."

"I love you," Maduin said simply, hoping that would be all the explanation he needed. He was still hidden from her sight, and she made no attempt to find him.

"You loved me enough to leave me alone in Narsille, and go off on those damn expeditions. And look what it got us." Mae bent lower to the ground and carefully straightened a drooping rose. The petals fell apart in her hand, and she dashed the dead thing to the ground in frustration. "Just leave!"

"I was a fool, but you have to believe that I never stopped thinking of you. Even after...everything...I still never stopped thinking about you. Please, just look at me."

"Do you think if I just turn around and look at you, everything will be forgiven? You've destroyed everything in our life, even yourself. Our apartment is gone, all my Narsillian friends dead, and now, you've done the same thing here. Everywhere you go, chaos follows!"

"I am trying to protect everyone, not destroy them! Please, you have to understand!" Maduin slowly stepped out of the shadows as he pleaded, but Mae stayed rooted to the earth like one of her dying flowers.

"I don't want to understand!" she shouted. Her hands were on her ears. "Don't you see, it doesn't matter? You mean well, but you're caught up in something I don't understand, and don't want to understand. I just wanted to be your wife, have kids, live a quiet life in a beautiful city." For the first time, she turned her head in her husband's direction, but did not look at him. Her eyes were glued to the ground, afraid. "Can you honestly say you can give me that now, looking like...that?"

"I can try. I don't know what this body can do. Maybe..."

"No!" Mae said vehemently, shaking her head. Maduin could see the falling tears reflecting in the fire light. "I don't want to try! I..." Mae struggled with herself, willing herself to raise her head, to look at the monster now standing over her.

"Mae...just look at me. I am still your husband." Maduin said softly, reaching out his hand to touch her. But he could not, not without looking into her eyes first.

With a monumental effort Mae succeeded in lifting her face, but her eyes were shut. She started to open them, but as soon as she perceived the giant form looming over her, she shut them tight and turned her head. "I can't see you like this. Why won't you just leave me alone!"

Maduin couldn't take it anymore, and grabbed her gently by the shoulders, urging her to look him in the face. "Mae, look. I can't leave you here without knowing for sure."

"Dune," Mae said, feeling faint as the foreign claws touched her. "This is too much. I can't live the life you're leading now. There's no room in it for me, and I have no room in my life for you. Why are you dragging this out? Leave!"

Maduin soften his grip, but did not let go. "This is your mother's doing, isn't it? She's convinced you that I'm nothing but a monster. That you'll die if you stay with me. It's not true!"

"Wake up, Dune!" Mae shouted. "Look at yourself! You _are _a monster!" Her eyes were open, and they were staring intensely at Maduin's face. There was a look of deep disgust in them, and Maduin winced at the awful look that stole across her delicate features.

"I am not just a monster, Mae. There is more to me than this body." Maduin felt weak, and wasn't sure if he even believed his own words.

"I loved you, Dune. But it's just not enough. The man I loved is gone, and along with it the life I had wanted to live with him."

"No! I am still here. We have to at least try! Forget the rest of the world, let it burn for all I care. I still want to make this work."

"Let go of me, Dune. You're hurting me."

Maduin quickly let go of Mae, and stepped back in horror. She rubbed her shoulders where he had been squeezing harder than he had realized.

"There's nothing left." She said calmly, averting her eyes from Maduin's face. "I've thought of this moment ever since I left Narsille. I've tried to find some way to make it work. It just isn't possible. A human and an...Esper? It's a fantasy, and we're both too old to kid ourselves."

"How do you know unless we try?" Maduin said frantically. "How do you know?"

Mae touched her breast, still not looking at Maduin. "The heart knows, and that's enough. It's over."

"Mae, I can't just leave you here! I won't!" Maduin stepped forward, accidentally crushing several struggling flowers.

"You will." This was not Mae's voice, but the harsher, older voice of her mother. She had been inside the house, but now she felt her presence was required to put this scene out of its misery. "Leave, beast."

"I will not! I won't leave this town until it is safe."

"It won't be safe until you leave! Why can't you understand that this is all your fault?" Mrs. Laperdeau shouted, her eyes blazing with hate.

"What if another Esper comes here? What will you do?"

"We'll do what we must, without you!" Mrs. Laperdeau spat, shaking her finger at him as she walked towards the garden. "We are not completely helpless. And if we must, we'll leave, and go somewhere else. You gave the men false hope, and led them into a needless battle. How many died tonight because of the bloodlust you instilled in them?"

"I never intended..." faltered Maduin.

"That's your problem! You just stumble into a situation without thinking of how it may affect us! You did the same thing when you blundered into this village ten years ago, and now you return, just as impudent and full of a man's pride as you were before! Just go away!"

"I won't leave Mae here. It's too dangerous."

"And where would you take her? The mountains? The hellhole behind those gates? The worse place on earth for my daughter is wherever you are!"

"I..." Maduin stuttered. He had nothing to say to that. He looked back at Mae for support, but she had turned to stone, ignoring the fight. "Mae, please..."

But she said nothing.

"I can't leave like this. Surely there is some place for me here?"

"There isn't," Mrs. Laperdeau said savagely, poking her hard finger right into Maduin's chest. "You have no place here, among people. If Mae can't accept you, do you really think any one else in this village will? After what you've done?"

"I know one person who will stand by me." Maduin said, remembering Elphis. He looked back at Mae again, urging her to say something. "If Elphis can accept me, can't you?"

Mae shuddered, but remained silent. This was agony to her, and she just wanted this unpleasant, but necessary moment to end.

"Elphis is only slightly above the likes of you," Mrs. Laperdeau continued. "She is a vagabond, stealing and leeching off our already strained resources without giving anything back. Why don't the both of you just vanish?"

Maduin said nothing, and only stared at Mae. "Will you let your mother speak for you, Mae? Don't you have anything to say? Do you really want me to just vanish?"

Mae shook her head, but Maduin couldn't tell if she was agreeing or disagreeing with his words, or if she even heard them at all.

Maduin lowered his shoulders, and shook his own head. "If I leave, I won't come back this time. There will be no hope for us, no third chance. I don't want to leave you, Mae! Say something!"

Mrs. Laperdeau walked over to her daughter and put her arms around her, trying to get her to stand. "Come, Mae, you don't need to say anything to this brute." She gave one last venomous look at Maduin and ushered her daughter back towards the house.

"Wait!" Maduin shouted desperately from the ruined garden. "Mae, don't leave me like this! I am still your husband! I am still Dune!"

Mae jerked as if shot, but did not turn her head or stop her slow progress back into the safety of her house. Then she finally broke her silence.

"My husband is dead."

Her words were like daggers, and Maduin felt a part of him die as he heard the softly spoken death sentence.

And then she was gone, the door slammed shut against the night. Maduin stood by himself for several minutes with the crushed roses underneath his feet and the smell of death in his nostrils. The words echoed in his mind endlessly, growing louder and louder until he had to shout to drown them out. His roar sounded completely inhuman, and he made no attempt to mask the feral tones. Mae was right, her husband was dead. Dune Karn was no more. There was only the beast, the Esper, Maduin.

In wild anguish Maduin launched himself into the sky, utterly destroying any sign of the garden or its dead roses. All that was left was a crater, his grave.

"Why have you done this!" Maduin railed at the heavens as he rose higher and higher, a blazing blue comet in the night sky. "You could have stopped this! None of this had to happen!" Maduin rose higher, reaching the cloud layer and shooting through it, heedless of his rapidly waning strength.

"Why? Why am I here! Answer me, dammit!" Maduin exploded in grief, letting his cold energy ripple away from him into the clouds. He rose above the clouds on wings of pure chaotic energy, letting his power pour out into the surrounding sky with reckless abandon. The clouds recoiled from his assault, shaking with an almost alive intensity.

In a moment he was spent, and fell to the earth like a rock. Where he landed he didn't know or care. The force of the impact and his own utter exhaustion knocked him senseless, and the pathetic creature was lost to the world for the time being. No one disturbed him in his bed of destruction. More than a few people spat on him as they passed, hoping that he might be dead.

While Maduin lay unconscious on the cold ground, the skies above him opened briefly, perhaps disturbed by his passing. A warm rain began to fall lightly over the town of Antissa. The light rain soon became a downpour, but the drops fell gently, soothing all they touched. The fires abated, the wounded gained some of their strength, and the dying quietly passed on without pain. Those with fear and sorrow in their hearts suddenly felt lighter, like a loving parent had put their arms around them and told them everything would be alright.

High above the bleeding town, deep inside the seething clouds above, the shape of a massive face appeared, stern and roiling with suppressed emotion. Hovering in front of the face in the clouds was the faint shimmering figure of a breathtaking beauty, clothed only in gossamer threads of soft cerulean blue. Whether either apparition was really there or not, no one knew for sure, but everyone who saw the vision was touched profoundly.

"I weep for all my children," the female vision said softly to the clouds.

"We were told not to interfere," the giant face in the clouds said in smoldering tones.

"Listen to them wail, brother," the woman said sadly. "I cannot stand it any longer. Even if it is only the briefest respite, I must show them that they have not been wholly abandoned."

"You always had too much of a heart for these simple beings, sister. Emotion will ever be the downfall of all things, including the gods." the male voice of the face in the storm said, his own hard features softening. "Altimus will not be pleased."

"I cry for whom I please, Uranos." the shimmering female vision returned in her gentle, but powerful voice.

"So be it," the male voice said, the face turning inwards and melting back into the clouds. "Adamastor, hurry and finish your task, and leave this cursed realm."

"Yes, Master," a second male voice said, rumbling from within the storm. "Mistress?"

"You may go," the female voice said, now bodiless in the empty skies above Antissa. " I have done all I can."

And as quickly as the rain had started, it ceased, leaving not one ember of fire below and not one cloud above.

The healing rain had left its mark on Antissa, and when the sun rose in a few hours, a newfound sense of hope would pervade the village, if only for a time. There was still much to be done, and much to be mourned. The rain would soothe the weary hearts of the people tonight, but with the rising sun, the grim work of rebuilding would begin in earnest, and her tears would be joined by the hundreds of men, women, and children who's lives had been altered forever by forces they couldn't even begin to comprehend.

For how many more towns would the tears of Elia fall before the madness of her fallen brethren was spent?


	88. The Wanderer, 'Exiled'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - The Wanderer**

* * *

**9.8 - Exiled**

_Arise, my child..._

Maduin heard the voice, but did not move. He had no desire to open his eyes and return to the world of the living. He had no desire to do anything but lie wherever he was and enjoy blissful unconsciousness for as long as possible.

"Get up, you lazy ass!"

Maduin felt a sharp slap on his face, but it meant nothing. The gods had no power over him anymore, and neither did humanity. If he wanted to lie here forever, then that's what he would do.

"Wake up Maydune! It's a miracle!"

Maduin felt a splash of warm water on his face, and couldn't help but sputter and cough. Against his will, he was brought back. When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining down, blinding him. His eyes ached from the trauma they had suffered the night before, and everything was blurry. When he tried to focus, he thought he saw three people standing over him. Two taller women, and a young girl. One was wearing a jet black dress, the other was wearing a soft blue, and the girl, just a simple cotton slip. Elphis and the strange woman with the daggers, and...someone else that seemed vaguely familiar.

Maduin struggled to clear his vision, and after several hard blinks he watched as the double image of two women merged back into one, leaving only Elphis and the woman with the daggers.

"It's about time."

Maduin rubbed his eyes, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings. What he saw was exactly what Elphis had claimed - a miracle. The fires from the previous night were gone, and there seemed to be an impossible number of people filling the streets of Antissa, busily working at rebuilding the town. There couldn't have been this many people that survived the battle last night, and he didn't even think there were this many people in the village to begin with. And amazingly, his wounds from the battle were practically gone, with nothing but thick scars to show he had been in a fight at all. Even Elphis seemed completely fine, and was jumping up and down like her usual exuberant self.

"Elphis...what's going on? Are you hurt?" Maduin asked, his tongue dry and his head throbbing.

"I'm all better now! I got some marks where the big dog bit me, but I feel great!" the little girl chirped, touching her side to feel the wounds where Cerberus's teeth had pierced her. There were dark blooms of dried blood on her clothes, but like Maduin, there seemed to be nothing but a line of scars where she had been hurt. She beamed with pride at her battle scars.

"Who was that other woman?" Maduin asked, still trying to get a bearing on his situation. He could swear he had seen her before, but now she seemed to be nowhere in sight.

"What woman?" Elphis asked. "It's just me and Lady."

"I saw another woman with you, she was wearing a blue dress." Maduin said groggily. He looked around, but saw no one else near them. Just townsfolk running about with all manner of tools and building materials.

"There wasn't anyone else here," the black-dressed woman snapped. "Now, if you would be so kind as to get off the ground. We still need to talk, remember?"

"Fine." Maduin snapped back. After last night, he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone about anything, but the woman had a way about her that made her impossible to ignore. "First, tell me what's going on. Where am I? Who are all these people?"

"You never give up, do you?" the woman said. "We're near what's left of the north gate. Elphis found you lying here in a crater in the middle of the street, and I followed her. What on earth were you doing?"

"Following my heart." Maduin said in harsh tones, not wanting to speak of the night's unhappy conclusion any further. He hated to admit it, but the pitiless woman had been right. Following his heart had gotten him nothing but pain. Perhaps there was something to killing one's emotions after all.

The woman understood exactly what he meant in that uncanny way she seemed to read a person's thoughts, and simply nodded her head sagely.

"As for the town," she continued without asking for any further explanation, "it would seem the refugees from Narsille that had been camping outside the town saw the fires and came to help. Funny how the tables turn, eh? These 'wanderers' that the people of Antissa looked down on are now helping to rebuild. When the work is done, it will be their town as much as the surviving Antissans."

As Maduin got to his feet, he realized she was right. Most of the people he saw wore the faded clothing of Narsille. These were his people, but he felt no connection to them now. He felt no connection to anyone, and every time he thought of Mae, his heart ached and his mind raged with anger. He loved her, but that love was tainted with the feeling of betrayal. He knew her mother had worked her influence on her, but he also knew that the end result of last night's argument would have been the same even if Mrs. Laperdeau hadn't gotten involved. It just would have taken longer for Mae to finally build up enough courage to turn her back on him, dragging out both their suffering even longer. Maduin couldn't help but utter a grim chuckle at the thought that perhaps Mrs. Laperdeau had done him a favor.

"What's so funny?" Elphis asked innocently from Maduin's side. She had her hand wrapped in his and was squeezing it tightly.

As Maduin felt the warm pulse of Elphis's soft hand in his hard grip, he realized there was still one person he felt a connection with. This small child still believed in him, had sought him out when everyone else had avoided and abandoned him. He squeezed her hand gently, looking down at her sweet face.

"Nothing you will ever have to worry about." he said. As he said those words, he knew that the two of them would be inseparable from now on. He would never let her down, and she would never abandon him

"Aw, you're silly." Elphis said, laughing.

Her laugh filled Maduin with a sense of peace he had longed for these past months. The rest of the human race would gladly see him dead, but he knew this one child still believed in him. Perhaps in time, that would be enough. For now, he still felt the gaping hole in his chest that had once belonged to Mae.

"Excuse me, but I believe we having something to discuss?"

Maduin looked back at the mystery woman, who was visibly annoyed. He had forgotten she was even there, but now he knew he had to tell her what little he knew of her comrade's fate. It was an unpleasant fate, and he knew she would not be happy with his story, if she even believed it.

"The girl is safe, so tell me. Where is the Lord Dunn-Raven? Where is Agent Phantom?"

Maduin collected his thoughts, pushing aside the flood of memories from his time with Mae and trying to remember the vague glimpses of the man that had been known as Agent Phantom. He explained his vague memories of their confrontation on the Maiden, and how the man had escaped overboard using one of the ship's lifeboats. The next time he had seen the man was deep inside Crescent Mountain, a slave to Levi's overwhelming force of will. How the two had met Maduin did not know, but somehow Levi had completely subjugated the man, and worked him to the brink of death. The last glimpse Maduin had of Agent Phantom was through the eyes of his cruel Esper persona. The man had willingly allowed himself to be devoured whole by the newly created Leviathan. After that, Agent Phantom was no more.

"Impossible." the woman snorted after listening to Maduin's story, a flash of that berserker's rage in her eyes. "The Lord Dunn-Raven would never allow himself to be controlled like that. We Stradivari answer only to our leader's command."

Maduin sighed, still not understanding who this woman was, or what her connection to the man known as Agent Phantom was. "I have no reason to lie to you. The man is dead now, of that I am sure. Does it matter why at this point?"

"Absolutely. I have reason to believe his is alive, and currently in East Jidorik. Which means you are either lying or mistaken."

Maduin straightened himself out, towering over the woman. Now he was getting annoyed. "If you knew where he was, then why are you bothering me? Why are you here? Who are you?"

The woman showed no signs of being intimidated by the giant Esper, and stared at him with equal annoyance. "We know nothing for sure. Whoever our contacts in East Jidorik saw, he is not responding to our signals, and is proving almost impossible to communicate with. He doesn't even seem human. He seems...more like you."

"Another Esper?" Maduin said, dismayed. Every day the number of fellow Espers was growing, and Maduin knew it was only a matter of time before their phenomenal magical might swept over the whole world just like they had Narsille.

"I have no idea. Until I had overheard you talking to these townsfolk, I had never heard the word before. But it seems to fit, especially after witnessing the events here. I want you to tell me everything. About Espers, Narsille, and these gods you spoke of."

"I've told you what you wanted to know about your friend, and I won't say anything else. I'm tired of talking about the past. Just leave me alone." Maduin turned to walk away from the woman, but a sharp cry from Elphis stopped him cold. When he looked back at the girl, he found a razor-sharp dagger at her throat and the woman hovering directly behind her.

"You will tell me what I want to know, Esper." The woman's words were cold and emotionless. "I don't want to kill this girl, but I will if I have to."

"You really are a monster." Maduin spat. Elphis still gripped his hand tightly, but there was nothing either of them could do.

The woman didn't blink at Maduin's insult. "Now then, tell me what you know, and we can both go our separate ways in peace."

Maduin growled in frustration, but he had no choice. So, he told the sad story of his travels at the Committee's command, the transformation of himself and his friends into Espers, and the destruction of Narsille. Everything he knew of Sade and the Fallen Masters he explained as best he could, although there was still much he did not know about the true nature of the events that he had been dragged into.

The woman listened silently to his tale, never once taking her eyes off him, or her hand off her dagger. When he was finally done, she looked at him with the same impenetrable stare. Whether she believe him or not, he had no idea.

"If I hadn't seen in with my own eyes..." she said after a long pause, carefully lowering her weapon from Elphis's throat. The girl stepped away from her quickly, wrapping herself around Maduin's thick leg.

"Very well," the woman mused, no longer paying any attention to Elphis or Maduin. "This information will help us greatly in the coming months. It would seem the Stradivari have work to do, if we want to survive."

Maduin looked at her curiously, still wondering just who she was, and what this Stradivari she spoke of was. Despite her brutal methods, he was not sure whether this woman was really an enemy, or an ally.

The woman caught Maduin's look, and smiled. "I know what you're thinking, and all I can say is that as long as you stay out of our way, you are not our enemy. You're wondering who we are, correct?"

"I really don't care." Maduin said angrily. He was curious, of course, but after the way she had treated Elphis, he wanted nothing to do with her.

"Now I know you're lying," she said, still smiling. "Let me enlighten you. Otherwise, you may just find yourself blundering into our affairs, and we would not hesitate to get rid of you."

"I'd like to see you try," Maduin said, his anger rising. He turned to leave, Elphis close beside him. She had a look of anger on her face as well. She had trusted the woman she called Lady, and just like so many others, she had betrayed her.

"The Stradivari are not a force to be taken lightly," she called out as Maduin and Elphis stalked off. "We are everywhere, in every town. And now that we know what is happening, we will use our influence to prevent this war you say is coming. You can either fight with us, or against us. It's your choice."

Maduin stopped, and responded without turning around. "I choose not to fight. I have nothing left to fight for. Let the gods have this world, as long as I can live my life in peace."

"What if I told you your friends are alive?"

"What?" Now Maduin turned around and looked the woman right the eyes.

"What if I told you your Captain was not dead, but alive, and working with West Jidorik?"

Maduin's anger swelled, and he let off a pulse of cold energy right at the woman. It knocked her to her knees, but she did not show any sign of fear. "Tell me what you know."

"Still following your heart, I see. You're an easy man to read." The woman got to her feet lightly, dusting herself off.

"Where is the Captain?" Maduin repeated.

"His ship has been seen at the ports of West Jidorik, and his crew say he is still the captain, and that they are taking orders from him. No one has actually seen him, though."

"I saw Captain Bismark die with my own eyes...by my own..." Maduin faltered. He still wasn't sure what he had seen or done. But he remembered the blood, and the Captain's body lying at his feet. That was the last time he had seen his old friend. Could he really have survived the destruction of Narsille?

"And you say you saw Lord Dunn-Raven devoured as well, and yet I believe he is now in East Jidorik. These are strange times, no?" The woman smiled again, crossing her arms smugly.

"I...do not know..." Maduin stuttered, now curious what this woman knew.

"Let's go, Maydune. I don't like this lady." Elphis tugged at the scrap of cloth hanging from Maduin's waist, eager to get away from the dangerously unpredictable woman.

"I have a feeling we'll meet again," the woman said. "If you are going to Jidorik, and I suspect you will, there are some things you should know. They say there is a dragon on the Dragon Throne now. A _real_ dragon. I had thought this was just a mad rumor, but now I doubt that. You mentioned that Draco Christophe was a part of your group, and had been transformed into an Esper, a _dragon_ Esper. I think it is safe to assume that the dragon king of West Jidorik and your dragon Esper are one and the same, so I would suggest steering clear of him if you want to live. They say anyone who crosses the dragon is never seen again."

"Draco was not an evil man, just another person ensnared in the plots of the gods. I still have hope that he can be returned to his senses."

"Whatever you do, don't be a fool about it. Remember, the Stradivari are everywhere. If we see you as a threat, we will come after you with all our power. If you let your power run wild in Jidorik like you did here, we will consider you an enemy."

"Just who are you?" Maduin asked, forgetting for the moment his disgust for the woman. "You claim to be in every town, yet I've never heard of this Stradivari before."

"Hoho, I never did introduce myself, did I?" the woman said, laughing into her sleeve. "I am known as the Lady Blunt." She bowed elegantly, as if she were introducing herself to a king. "And all you need to know about the Stradivari is that we are a global network of mercenaries. Every town in the world has at least one member of our group in it. We keep ourselves secret and out of sight, but we are always nearby, watching, and listening. Lord Dunn-Raven was one of our members assigned to Narsille. Myself, I am from Zwill. There are countless more of us out there. It would be wise to assume anything you say or do will be known to us immediately, and to act accordingly."

"In other words, I'm being watched, so don't do anything stupid." Maduin said glumly, wondering what new web he was being trapped in.

"Exactly. If you were any kind of fighter, I'd try to get you to join us, but after watching you, I feel you would be more of a liability than a help. The girl, however..." The woman known as the Lady Blunt looked down at Elphis with an appraising eye. Elphis squirmed at the sound of the woman's voice, trying to hide behind Maduin.

"I wanna leave, Maydune," she said unhappily.

"In a moment, Elphis. Don't worry, I won't let her hurt you." Maduin looked back at the Lady Blunt. "The girl stays with me."

"A shame. We could do wonders with someone so in tune with their senses. And I am rarely wrong in my measure of a person's worth to our group."

"I've heard enough." Maduin said, turning away. "I think it's time you left us, Blunt."

'That's _Lady_ Blunt," the woman snapped back. "The Stradivari take our titles very seriously, and it's not often we share our identities with anyone. You should feel honored to even know the little that you do about us."

"Trust me, the honor is all yours. I have no desire to join your group, or to get in your away. Once we part ways, I hope to never see you or your group again."

The Lady Blunt laughed again. "So naive. If you are headed towards Jidorik, you will have to pass through Zwill, where I am from. And knowing you, you will get in our way, unintentionally or otherwise. It's in your nature. We _will_ meet again, Maduin."

"I will try very hard to make sure that doesn't happen, _Lady_ Blunt."

"You would be wise to do that. Until then...keep following your heart, ha!" The Lady Blunt continued laughing as she left the two. With that unnatural ease of movement, she blended in with the mass of people flowing around the group at a safe distance, and was gone in a moment.

"I don't like her." Elphis said quietly once she felt the Lady's steps fade into the wall of sound around them.

"Neither do I." Maduin said, squeezing her hand. "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

"Yeah! I'm starving!" Elphis jumped up and started to drag Maduin towards one of the places she normally went to eat.

Just as the two started moving through the town, the flow of people around them subtly changed. The people were no longer politely ignoring the two, and Maduin could feel the burning glare of a hundred angry eyes on him and Elphis. Soon, the river of people slowed, and Maduin could sense a crowd beginning to form around them, gradually restricting their movements.

"Elphis, stay close to me, and don't let go." Maduin whispered to the girl. She nodded and moved in close to her giant bodyguard.

The crowd continued to grow, and now Maduin could hear murmurs of discontent running through it. He was no longer moving now, and simply stood where he was, waiting to see what would happen next. He had hoped to avoid confrontation with the townsfolk, but it seemed that was impossible.

"We don't want any trouble." Maduin called out to the expanding mob. "We just want something to eat, and then we will leave you in peace."

Several angry curses rang out from the mob, and Maduin could see there were various makeshift weapons in many hands. He did not like where this was going.

"Get out of our town!" one person shouted.

"We have no food for the likes of you, monster!" another voice rang out.

"Turn around, or you'll be sorry!" a third voice joined in.

Soon, there were dozens of voices shouting at the two, and Maduin could see the mob slowly getting closer to them.

"Maydune saved all of you!" Elphis cried out from the Esper's side. Maduin tried to hush her, but she would not be silent while the people of Antissa insulted her friend.

"He beat that big dog, and if it wasn't for him we'd all be dead!" she continued, heedless of the angry voices and heavy rumble of a hundred footsteps.

"He brought that dog into our town and let it loose! My son died last night, and this monster's to blame!"

"He's just another monster like the dog! He'll probably take you to the same place the dog took everyone!"

"Get away from the beast and let us get rid of him!"

Elphis stamped her foot angrily at the accusations of the people. "You're all stupid! Maydune would never hurt anyone! I'm leaving this stinky place!"

A few braver villagers stepped closer, trying to reach Elphis. She sensed them and swatted their hands away. Maduin made no attempt to defend himself, but he reached around Elphis to shield her from the questing hands of the villagers.

Just as the unruly mob was beginning to get too close and too agitated for Maduin, a shrill voice rang out, silencing the mass of people at once.

"Enough. Get away from that filth and let him go. Let them both go. Anyone who sides with that fiend is not welcome here in Antissa."

Maduin looked at where the voice had came from, and saw several people stepping aside. Standing at the center of the mob was Elle Laperdeau, her eyes blazing with hate. Mae was nowhere to be seen.

"Leave this town and never come back!" she shrieked, pointing one long finger straight at Maduin.

Maduin said nothing to the woman. He felt nothing towards her, towards the townsfolk around him. He had risked his life to save them, but that meant nothing to them. And now, he had to leave in disgrace, a wanderer once again. His heart was cold as ice as he turned away from Elle Laperdeau's accusing stare. These people were no longer a part of his life. This town was nothing more than a dot on a map to him now.

"That's right, get out!" Elle Laperdeau continued shrieking. "We don't want you or your kind here! Spread the word to the other monsters out there! We don't want you in Antissa!"

Maduin continued walking with Elphis by his side, refusing to rise to Mrs. Laperdeau's taunts. As the two walked past the mass of rubble that was formerly the north gate, he could still hear her yelling, her voice rising in pitch until it sounded as inhuman as Maduin's own. Maduin did not look back, and neither did Elphis.

"Adults are stupid," Elphis said softly as they walked into the snowy fields that led up into the Narsillian mountains.

Maduin nodded his head in agreement, and continued up into the mountains. After a while, the trail became too steep and rugged for Elphis, and he let her climb onto his back for the rest of the way. The two talked little, and both reflected on their unhappy fates.

"I'm cold," Elphis said after a while. She was still wearing only the cotton slip, and Maduin could feel her shivering on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, but I can only make ice," Maduin said sadly. He wished his powers were more than just those of the cold, the power of death. "Just hang in there and we'll be at my cave soon. I have food there and can make a fire once we are inside."

"I don't wanna live in a cave," Elphis muttered, realizing for the first time what kind of life she was letting herself be taken into.

"It's only for a little while. I have a friend there that I think you'll like." Maduin tried to smile, but he only felt sorrow at the situation he found himself in. He felt guilty for dragging Elphis into his dreary world, and knew it would be much harder for her to live like this than it was for him.

After several hours of trudging through thick snow, Maduin reached the cave he had called home. As soon as he entered the mouth of the cave, a furry white ball zoomed out from the depths of the cave.

"Kupoooo!"

Maduin let Elphis down gently and greeted the little moogle with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. The moogle flitted around him for a moment, rubbing its body against him like a pet cat. Once it had finished accosting Maduin, it glanced at the little girl, curious about the new arrival.

"This is Elphis, Kumiro." Maduin said, reading the moogle's expression. He had found that it was becoming easier to tell what the moogle was trying to say as time passed. Soon he felt he would be able to interact with the creature as deftly as Indie had. "Elphis, this is Kumiro. He's a moogle, and he's very smart."

Elphis let out a squeal of delight at the sound of the moogle's voice and the feel of its fur. She grabbed it like she would a frisky leaf bunny from the Laperdeau's garden, squeezing it.

"Kupow!" Kumiro squeaked as Elphis hugged it tighter and tighter. The cute exclamation only served to tighten the ecstatic girl's embrace.

"You're so cute! And you feel even softer than a leafer! Ooh, I could fluff you all day!" All thoughts of her dismal state vanished as Elphis held the fuzzy moogle in her arms like a baby.

"Kupopopopo!" The moogle let out a stream of gibberish as it struggled in the girls arms, squirming left and right.

"Elphis...I think you should let go. Kumiro can't breath." Maduin said, grinning.

"Oh! I'm sorry Kumiro! You're just so squishy!" Elphis bubbled, loosening her grip.

The moogle popped out of her hands and resumed flying around the cave, muttering kupo's as it circled. It acted like it was mad, but Maduin could tell that it liked the girl.

"Alright." Maduin said after the three had gotten accustomed to each other. "We'll stay the night here, and then we leave tomorrow. I'm afraid it's too cold for you here, Elphis."

"Nah, I'm fine now. Kumiro can keep me warm!" Elphis reached out and snatched the moogle out of the air again, and this time the moogle didn't struggle.

"You don't have to be brave, Elphis. I hate to say it, but that woman is right. I need to go to Jidorik and see what is happening down there. If the Captain is alive, I have to find out. And if I can save Draco from himself, I have to try that as well."

"Aw, but they'll just hate you there, too," Elphis said, her voice losing some of its cheer.

"I know, but I have to try. I can't let one bad experience get me down. And even if the whole world hates me, I still feel like I have to do something." Maduin looked down at the girl and the moogle, happily playing with each other. "As long as there's people like you in the world, it feels like I should still fight for it. Will you come with me?"

"Of course, silly! I'll go where you go, forever!" Elphis blurted without any thought. It was simple fact, and she had no shame it stating it.

"Kupo!" Kumiro said with equal matter-of-fact-ness.

Maduin smiled, deep and warm. "Well then, I guess it's settled. Tomorrow we go south, past Antissa. It's a long road, but I'll keep you safe."

"I trust you!" Elphis said with that same simplicity.

The three continued chatting until the sun went down, and slept soundly until the next day. They left the cave with the rising sun, eager to be rid of the unforgiving climate. They passed the bustling town of Antissa without a second glance, steering clear of its walls. There was nothing there for them now. They were truly wanderers now, with no place to call home.

Along the way south they passed many refugee camps from Narsille, and Elphis and Kumiro managed to mix with the many different people there, getting what food they could for the group. Surprisingly, the refugees were generous and kind, seeing Elphis and her pet moogle as wanderers just like them. Maduin stayed out of sight, knowing full well that their warm welcomes would not extend to the likes of him.

As the trio wended their way further south, they came across an unexpected sight. A few miles from the vast Thanas desert, they came across the stationary hulk of the fortress-like Figaro, surrounded for almost a mile by a swarming mass of large tents, rudimentary buildings and hordes of people, animals, and cargo. The scene looked more like a makeshift village with the Figaro at its center like a king's castle. Maduin was curious what the situation was with the giant mobile laboratory, so he sent Elphis in to ask the people there what had happened.

The story was an intriguing one, and gave Maduin hope that the culture and history of Narsille might not be completely dead. The Figaro had been badly damaged in its hectic escape from Narsille, and without Alex Figaro to head its maintenance, had broken down beyond repair just short of the Thanas. Now, it had been turned into the central core of what was quickly becoming a new settlement. There were vast stores of food, water, and all manner of machinery inside the Figaro, and refuges from all around were flocking to it for aide and protection under the shadow of the great machine.

In less than a month since breaking down, the Figaro had been completely transformed into something akin to a mechanical castle, with various people spreading their homes out from it as more wanderers arrived each day. What were once tents were now becoming proper homes as pieces of the Figaro were scrapped for houses. Even simple farms were cropping up around the mountain of metal, and soon this unlikely place would become a thriving and permanent community. The people who were now living here fittingly called their new town "Figaro" and Maduin suspected that with all the Narsillian engineers haunting the place, it would soon grow to rival places like Antissa, and perhaps one day become a sort of second Narsille, a haven for technology and innovation...and hopefully for peace.

Filled with a new sense of hope, Maduin stayed on the outskirts of the blossoming town for almost a month, enjoying the stories Elphis brought back from his fellow Narsillian refugees. These wanderers had found a home for themselves, but Maduin still had a long way to go to find his own place in the world. And as long as he had Elphis by his side, he felt sure someday he would find that place. He tried his best to put the darkness of Antissa behind him, and embrace this new world he was wandering into. Some nights it was hard to forget the things he had lost, but Elphis never let him stay depressed for long, and neither did the equally enthusiastic Kumiro.

Eventually it came time for the three to move on, and they packed up their belongings and continued south, into the endless sands of the once dead Thanas Desert. Ever since Maduin had removed the curse of the gravity crystal from the region, life had returned with a vengeance. The desert was still extremely inhospitable to life, but there were still cacti springing up, and tufts of hardy grass lining the fringes of the desert. Maduin could even see some of the common desert animals returning here after their long exile. Giant sand rays several feet across, thick-shelled areneid scorpions, and even the occasional wild chocobo could be seen ranging across the desert now. This desert was alive.

As the three entered the great desert, they were unaware of a hidden follower taking note of their every move. This follower had been watching them ever since they left their cave in the Narsillian mountains, and had been dutifully reporting their movements to its master, many leagues away.

Hovering slightly above the ground on an inconspicuous sand dune, a strange insect-like creature the size of a man buzzed contentedly, its bulging eyes studying the three with a cold intelligence. Its black cape-like wing casings fluttered behind it in the wind, and its skeletal golden body hung motionless in mid air, like the ghostly corpse of some giant fly. A faint green aura glistened around it, hiding it from any stray glances in its direction. Every once in a while the metallic buzzing would change to words, speaking to no one.

"The target is heading 56 degrees south by southwest."

"87% probability that Jidorik is final destination."

"Likely objective is to reconnoiter with either Esper Cetus or Esper Bahamut. 97% probability of failure."

"Current revival status of Master Moloch at 62%, but stalled due to lack of suitable sacrifices. Revival rate of Master Chemosh and Mistress Astarte unknown. Estimates as low as 10%, no higher than 50%. Time until revival approximately ten years at current growth."

"Will continue to follow Esper Maduin and report on status of other Masters when their condition is known. Zona out."

With a sharp click of golden mandibles, the ephemeral Seeker of Moloch phased out of sight, leaving nothing but a green cloud of static energy where it had once been.


	89. Dragon and Star, 'The Tyrant Wyrm'

~x~

**Author's Note: **For those interested, I've gone back and added "Cid quotes" to the beginning of each of Book 1's Chapters, and will continue to add them to the beginning of each Chapter from now on. I enjoy doing these, and feel they give a connection to the current world of FFVI, as well as some insight into the world's history. I hope anyone who is reading this enjoys them as well. :)

* * *

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

_The Ancient Castle at Karnak has given us a wealth of information about the ancient world, but even its vaults have their limits. Their oldest texts only date back to several centuries before the War of the Magi, when the castle was built. These hazy times at the edge of our vision were filled with strife and war, like much of our world's history. During this particular period, it was the gods themselves that warred, and the mortal plane was their battleground. One of the most vicious battles of the Goddess War occurred in the area now known as Jidoor. Legends tell of two mighty dragons of sky and sea that descended from the heavens and waged a bitter war for supremacy over the region. Legends also tell of two goddesses, as bright as the stars, that descended as well, and the hapless humans that fought amongst themselves for their unattainable favor. _

-Excerpt from Chapter IV of _"The History of the World"_ by Cid del Norte Marguez, 43 AF

* * *

**Part 10.1 - The Tyrant Wyrm**

For Paolo, it was the end. He would soon stand before his judge, jury, and executioner, and knew he had no hope of being pardoned. No one who was summoned to the Dragon Throne was ever seen again. Like so many before him, he was to be fed to the Tyrant Wyrm, Bahamut.

_Forgive me, my children. I was a fool._

Paolo knew he had done nothing wrong, but things like right and wrong had little meaning these days. Ever since their "king" had returned to them five months ago, the brief peace West Jidorik had enjoyed had been turned into a twisted nightmare. Even the harsh rule of the missing Prince Ralse would have been better than this.

_Why did I open my mouth? Why did I even leave my house after dark? What was I thinking?_

At first, the homecoming of their beloved General-King, Draco Christophe, was celebrated. He had been gone for over a month, and there were growing worries that the East would launch a counterattack while he was gone. Soon after news spread that he had returned, however, strange proclamations started pouring from Glastok Castle, the capital of West Jidorik. Whatever had happened to their king while he was away, he had come back a changed man, quite literally.

"You will put on this blindfold, prisoner."

Paolo nodded wearily and stood silently as the burly guard tied a strip of cloth around his eyes with thick, clumsy fingers. He now stood at the foot of the Dragon Hall, once one of the most beautiful halls in the world. The last thing he saw before all went dark were the famous gold-wrought doors to the throne room, a twisting dragon encompassing their frame. As his vision was cut off, he heard the doors creak open, and felt a blast of frigid cold air.

_This is it. I am ready, Altimus..._

No one had seen their king since his return. Nor had anyone seen the Lady Maria, who had vanished shortly after her husband, and returned at the same time, under the same mysterious circumstances. Their were rumors that the couple that had returned were no longer human, but...something more. There was talk of a black-winged dragon flying above Glastok Castle, and a glowing angel appearing in the garden of the castle every night. Paolo had thought such fanciful rumors the talk of drunkards, madmen, and the jealous. As the months passed by, and the rumors and very un-Draco-like edicts increased, more and more people began to believe something very unusual had happened to their king and queen.

"Kneel before your king, prisoner!"

The guard smashed Paolo in the back with a giant hairy fist, forcing him to the ground. The cold air flowed over him, in and out, like the breath of some giant beast. A deep rumbling sound shook the air around him with each icy blast.

"You stand before the Dragon of the West, a traitor to your king and kingdom. How do you plead?" a snarling voice spoke from the far end of the hall. It was definitely not a human voice.

With each passing moment, Paolo began to believe the rumors with an increasing feeling of dread in his stomach. He had always pledged that he would be willing to die for his beliefs, but now that his vows were being put to the test, he wondered how long it would be before the Tyrant Wyrm made him say or do whatever was demanded of him.

_I must stay strong. The Holy Master is with me. I will not falter._

"I am innocent. I have done nothing wrong, and am a loyal subject of West Jidorik." Paolo tried to speak boldly, but his voice wavered with fear. He had no idea what sort of being stood at the other end of the hall, but his mind was having no trouble coming up with every sort of black thing imaginable.

A roar filled the hall, and Paolo felt a massive intake of air that nearly knocked him breathless. In an instant, something massive and terrible had landed right in front of him, shaking the tiled floor and sending Paolo sprawling backwards, still blind. The chill in the air increased tenfold, and Paolo could sense some dark presence brooding over him. Panic spread over him, and he could feel a cold sweat break out over his body.

_I will not falter, I will not falter, I will not.._

"There is only one Master in this country, and that is Bahamut, the Dragon King! Say it, or die where you stand!" The growl was now a full roar, only a few feet from Paolo.

_I must not betray my Order, I must not falter, I must not falter..._

"There is only one Master..." Paolo said weakly.

Paolo should have seen what was happening sooner. Within one month of Draco's supposed return, people began disappearing. The first wave of people all had one thing in common, one thing that Paolo knew would eventually get him into trouble. Every single person that vanished was a member of the Order of the Pearl.

Paolo was a member of the Order of the Pearl.

"And that Master is...?" the inhuman voice demanded.

Within two months, a new group of people began to vanish. Anyone who's blood could be traced back to East Jidorik families. Paolo's uncle belonged to the Gabbianis - a very influential Eastern family line. Paolo knew enough to keep both his faith and his family history under wraps, but the once noble king had spies everywhere. One by one Paolo saw many people he knew, whether they were fellow Order members or distant family relations, snatched away in the night, never to be seen again.

Paolo breathed in sharply, knowing the next words out of his mouth would be his death sentence.

"The Holy Master, Altimus!" Paolo said loudly and quickly, before he had time to change his mind.

_I am crazy._

Within three months, strange creatures began appearing in the countryside. News of the downfall of Narsille had reached Jidorik, and the rumors of monsters, ghosts, and all manner of unnatural phenomenon spread like wildfire. Giant birds that walked like men. Poisonous weeds that moved and strangled their prey. Worms the size of snakes that could devour a man whole. The king made no appearances to calm his people, and offered no explanations for the events taking place. He simply added more laws to the growing list, claiming that they were for his people's protection. The wording was always that of a benevolent keeper of the peace, but the effect was martial law.

After four months, the people now lived in fear of both their king and the growing threat of monster attacks on the road. And people continued to vanish. Paolo wondered how long it would be until someone came in the night for him. He had tried to act normal, not speak out, and follow whatever insane laws came down from the capital, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep his nerves in these trying times.

On the fifth month, someone finally came for Paolo. The monsters had begun invading towns, and some of them seemed to be working with the king. The proclamations that came down from the capital were no longer signed "King Draco Christophe", but "Bahamut, Dragon King of Jidorik." Anyone who spoke out even slightly against the king or his laws was instantly clapped in chains and carried off, and not always by soldiers. Just as frequently, a person who had spoken poorly would be the victim of a monster attack the very next day, carried off to unknown parts.

Despite his best efforts, Paolo had accidentally let slip a common prayer said by members of the Order of the Pearl in public, and that very night, he was visited by a horror unlike anything he had ever seen. It was a filthy ape-like brute with white fur and blue skin, eight feet tall. Paolo had been out late despite the curfew, and before he knew what was happening, he was being carried away by the thing, towards Glastok Castle.

Now, after two days in a stinking dungeon, that same sub-human guard stood behind him, and its master before him. He had declared his allegiance, and now all that was left was to die for it.

But the blow he was expecting did not come. Paolo waited in total darkness, his fears growing by the second, but nothing happened. The freezing aura continued to pour over him, and he could hear the rapid sound of heavy breathing, but there was no voice, no command. If something didn't happen soon, he felt he would die from nerves alone.

After an interminable silence, someone finally spoke, but it was not the Dragon King.

"Sire, if you would, I will take care of this one." The voice was human, but sounded ragged and cracked. It might have been the voice of a tired old man, or a very sick young one. Paolo imagined anyone who had to spend his days working under a monster like this would probably sound just like this.

"Grrr...very well, Lucius. He has professed his guilt quite clearly. Do what you will with him. I do not have time to waste on these petty concerns anymore."

Paolo felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, helping him off the ground.

"Come with me, Paolo Atriani. You have been judged."

Paolo stood shakily, unsure what was to become of him. The stranger guided him back out the doors and into the long hallway, closing the heavy doors behind him. Once there, the man removed his blindfold.

"You are lucky. If I hadn't interrupted, you would have been slain on the spot. Try not to antagonize our king, or you will find yourself nothing more than a stain on the wall, understand?"

Paolo looked at the man who had saved his life, unable to speak. He was covered in a cloak, and Paolo could make nothing of him beyond the fact that he was a man. What little flesh he could see was pale and covered in gruesome scars. One especially ugly wound covered the back of the hand on his shoulder, in the shape of a nearly complete circle. Had the Dragon King done this?

"Why did you save me?" Paolo said after struggling to find his voice.

"I did not save you," the man snapped back, irritated. "The king has judged you, and has graciously allowed me to carry out the sentence."

"And that sentence is...?" Paolo asked, his fear returning rapidly.

"That is up to the gods."

Paolo started to speak, but the man motioned for silence and continued guiding him down the hallway. Soon, Paolo realized he was heading towards the entrance to the castle. When they reached the gates, the man let go of his shoulder, and pushed him softly across the threshold.

"You have relations in East Jidorik, correct?" the man stood behind the gates, not moving one step out of the castle.

Paolo stood bewildered at the man's actions. Was he setting him free, or sending him to his death?

"I do."

"Then leave this country at once, and join them while you can. Times are changing, and war is coming. It will be a war unlike anything you have ever seen, and you will be safer in the East."

"Is this the will of the gods?" Paolo asked, wondering if this man was perhaps a secret member of the Order.

The man looked up at him, and Paolo saw that his face, too, was covered in scars. His eyes were wide and clear, and filled with a burning spirit that the frail body hid well. "There are many gods in this world, and many wills. If your will is strong enough, you may find yourself saved."

"Are you an ally or an enemy?"

"I am merely a slave of the gods, as are we all. Now go, and never come back." The scarred man turned and shut the gates, walking back into the castle with a hobbled step.

Paolo didn't waste time trying to think about his benefactor's intentions. Somehow, his prayers had been answered.

_Altimus be praised!_

Taking one shaky step forward, he tested his freedom. Nothing jumped out from the shadows, no howls of rage from inside the castle. He looked up into the night sky, expecting to see the black wings of the dragon rising from the castle like the rumors said. But there was nothing but stars. He had escaped the Tyrant Wyrm by the grace of the Holy Master! He had not faltered, and his devotion had been rewarded.

Paolo began to walk away from the castle with a surer step, picking up his pace. The scarred man had told him to go east, and he intended to, but first he had to get his children. It would take him all night to make it back to his home town, but he would gather his children and leave in the morning.

"Are you headed to the East?"

Paolo jumped at the whispered voice, hidden in the trees around him. It was a horrible sound, like a voice from the crypt. He turned to try and find the source, but could see only darkness.

"Who's there?" Paolo whispered back, hoping it was another ally.

"I am no one," the voice returned. "Are you headed to the East?"

Paolo decided to trust the voice, feeling it was another messenger from Altimus. "I am, will you help me?"

"Take my hand."

The air in front of Paolo shimmered, and a ghastly hand appeared. It looked like the hand of a corpse, and Paolo shrank back instinctively.

"Take my hand, or you will surely die here tonight," the voice whispered. From the shadows, the shape of a person materialized. It was covered in rags, and only the one stark white arm could be seen. Where its other arm should have been, only an empty sleeve blew in the breeze.

"I suppose I have no choice," Paolo said reluctantly, wondering if this was a trap. This thing in front of him did not seem quite human. But it was offering life, when his own king had offered him death. He took the ghostly figure's hand, and prayed with all his heart.

The second he touched the cold hand, Paolo felt a sharp thrill of energy go up his arm, as if he had been shocked. The world spun around him, and then both he and his ghostly savior vanished.

Paolo Atriani was never seen again.


	90. Dragon and Star, 'Special Delivery'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.2 - Special Delivery**

"You stand before the Dragon of the West, a traitor to your king and kingdom. How do you plead?"

The Dragon Throne shook with the power of its owner's voice. Around the throne, the great Dragon Hall where an endless line of kings had reigned since ancient times was now in a sad state of disarray. The world famous gallery of portraits that once covered the walls, all painted by the finest artists of the West past and present, were slashed and smashed, ruined beyond repair. The red carpet that had run the length of the hall, spun from the finest Cremonan thread, had been torn from the tiled floor and now only sporadically ran its course from throne to gate. Most of the carefully laid Doman tiles were upturned, cracked, or covered in blood-stains. The beautiful stained glass windows that covered the ceiling, brought from the tireless furnaces of the East as a symbol of peace over a hundred years ago, were shattered, their metal framework twisted and exposed to the night sky. Now only a gaping hole remained, letting in the cold, dank air of the Jidorikan winter.

Only the heavy mythril throne itself remained intact, a testament to the army of craftsmen who forged it deep beneath the Narsillian mountain range, two hundred years ago. The gold-lined throne glowed with a soft blue and gold aura, reflecting the naked moonlight from above. Over the throne hung a magnificent crystal sword the length of a man. It, too, seemed to glow with a strange light, as if it were absorbing the magical essence of the one who sat beneath it. This was the legendary sword of the Christophe family line, the Scion. Arrayed around the Scion, several priceless weapons still hung, all fashioned by the great weaponsmiths of Zwill, to the north. Like the rest of the hall, these weapons had been ravaged by the hall's master, and were now bent, broken, and useless. Some lay like scattered scrap metal around the throne, their priceless blades and hilts smashed by the powerful presence of the Dragon King.

Yes, the current ruler of West Jidorik had made his brutal mark on his home, and the chaos that swirled around him was clear for all to see. The golden-scaled beast that had literally descended onto the Dragon Throne on jet black wings was unlike anything that the hall had ever seen. Five months ago, the mythical terror had screamed right out of the pages of legend and into the throne room from the glass ceiling above, proclaiming his right to rule as Draco Christophe. He wielded the one-of-a-kind Christophe heirloom, the Scion, and knew all the necessary words for lordship of the realm. The shocked chancellors and advisors had no choice but to submit to his claims. By morning, Bahamut, the Dragon King, was lord and master of Glastok Castle, and all of West Jidorik.

Tonight, however, Bahamut's mind was elsewhere, and the concerns of a king were only an annoying gadfly in his sight, to be swatted away as quickly as possible. This was the night he had been dreading for months. This night would be the critical test of his humanity, his sanity, and his soul. He could not fail, he would not falter. More than one life depended on his ability to remain calm, and human, on this night.

_Concentrate on the matter at hand. Prepare yourself, my Herald. _

The stormy countenance of the Dragon King glanced back downwards at the pitiful man who knelt before him. The man was blindfolded, like all who entered the Dragon Hall from outside the castle. No one was allowed to see the true face of the king under penalty of death. Soon such precautions would be meaningless, and the entire world would know the might of the Herald of Doom, but order must be maintained until then.

"I am innocent. I have done nothing wrong, and am a loyal subject of West Jidorik."

The words were a painful buzz in Bahamut's ears. He did not have the patience for these pointless games tonight. Why Lucius had decided to bring this man here tonight of all nights, he could only guess. Looking down at the man, he did not seem to be a threat. Did Lucius believe this man was innocent, and hoped that Bahamut would be more likely to pardon him on this particular night?

_Lies. He is of the Order, and must be eliminated. All who follow Altimus must be converted or destroyed. There is only one Master, and that is the Master of Ice!_

The incessant voice of Doom echoed in his mind as the voice of the man buzzed in his ears, causing Bahamut to roar in frustration at both unwelcome intrusions.

Bahamut flew up in a spasm of anger and landed in front of the pitiful man, knocking him backwards with the sheer force of his presence. He hated the voice of his so-called Master, and desired nothing more than to be free from the invisible chains that bound him to Doom. No matter how hard he struggled, though, Doom always won, and forced him to do his will. With each passing month, Bahamut felt the vile presence of his Master grow within him, taking over more and more of his being. Soon, he feared whatever remnant of Draco Christophe still existed inside this cruel mockery of his famous title would fade away entirely, and only the Dragon would remain. But tonight...tonight belonged to Draco Christophe and Maria Chere, and no one else.

"There is only one Master in this country, and that is Bahamut, the Dragon King! Say it, or die where you stand!"

The voice that roared was more dragon than man, and Bahamut could feel his sense of self fading in the blinding light of the Dragon.

"There is only one Master..."

The voice was pitiful, and only further incensed Bahamut as he tried to remain in control.

_There is only one Master! Make him say it!_

"And that Master is...?"

Silently and slowly, Lucius crept into the room unnoticed by all but Bahamut. The man was usually not present during judgments. Why had he taken such an interest in this one?

"The Holy Master, Altimus!"

Bahamut heard the words, and almost swiped the man's head off out of reflex. It was moments like these, when the power of the Dragon was the strongest, that Bahamut tried his hardest to resist the overwhelming pressure to act and not think. His claws were raised to strike, trembling with the effort to restrain them, and he knew this man would die in a moment. But for every instant of that moment, Bahamut would fight his oppressor. Even a second of free will was better than giving up entirely.

_You cannot win. This man will die tonight. My will is far beyond your ability to control. You may play the part of king, but you are still nothing more than a pawn in the grand scheme of this war. Now strike!_

"Sire, if you would, I will take care of this one."

The calm voice of Lucius shot through his tortured mind, bringing with it memories of his former life. The strange tones of the scarred man's words always broke through the barrier of wild rage, giving Bahamut the clarity of thought he needed to keep the Dragon at bay. Something about his voice brought back memories of his life as a human, as vivid and fierce as if they were right in front of him. He could not explain the effect, but Lucius had proven to be a most capable aide, and one of the very few people Bahamut trusted. Indeed, very soon it would be a true test of loyalty for Lucius as well. There were many lives at stake this night.

As the blood-tinted urge to kill left his mind, he lowered his claws and wings, slumped slightly back, and turned his head away from the shivering man before him. He had had enough of this Let Lucius have his way, since he seemed so interested in this man.

"Grrr...very well, Lucius. He has professed his guilt quite clearly. Do what you will with him. I do not have time to waste on these petty concerns anymore."

Lucius bowed his covered head and guided the man out of the hall. Now only the patiently waiting Chancellor Farin and the hulking ape, Hrimthurs, remained. As soon as the golden doors closed, Bahamut turned sharply and stalked back to his seat, whipping his long tail back and forth against the floors and columns as he went. Nothing could proceed until Lucius returned, and Bahamut was growing increasingly impatient. His wife would not be kept waiting!

"Hrimthurs, go and watch Lucius," Bahamut growled from his throne, his gloomy calm returning to him.

Lucius was absolutely trustworthy in most things, but for some reason Bahamut did not trust the man tonight. As the appointed day had edged closer, the quiet man had grown increasingly shifty and scarce. And to bring an accused to him at this hour, and then take his sentence upon himself...it was all very strange. But the man was a strange one to begin with, and Bahamut could not begin to understand what was going on behind that twisted visage. All Bahamut was sure of was that Lucius had sworn a blood-oath to serve the king and queen of West Jidorik, and with his odd talents and intelligence, had proven his worth many times.

The great white creature nodded dumbly and left while Bahamut mused over his enigmatic advisor. Bahamut knew he could trust Hrimthurs without exception, since the beast was one of his own kind, and was in fact borne from his own essence. Like Bahamut, Hrimthurs was an Esper, created solely for the purpose of serving Chemosh, the Master of Ice, or as Bahamut had come to know him - Doom. As the Herald of Doom, Bahamut had complete dominion over all Espers of the Master of Ice, and he knew they could not possibly disobey him any more than he could disobey Doom himself.

The human that stood beside Hrimthurs, Chancellor Farin, was just as trustworthy. Where Hrimthurs was bound by magic to the Esper Bahamut, Farin was bound by honor to the man, Draco. The old chancellor had faithfully advised the former king of Jidorik until his was murdered by Prince Ralse, and then served just as unwaveringly under Draco during his brief rule as a human king. When Draco returned as Bahamut, showing unmistakable proofs that he was the rightful king, Farin was the first to pledge his loyalties. Ever since then, the unflappable man had tried his best to make sense of the sometimes unfathomable commands of his lord, and maintain the increasingly fragile order of the kingdom.

"My lord, after tonight, will we begin the next phase of the conflict?" Farin said uncertainly from beside his king.

"That depends on the outcome," Bahamut grunted, shifting in his seat. "We are dealing with an unprecedented event, and not even the gods themselves know what will happen. If all goes well, I will finally be able to leave the castle and deal with the problems facing our land."

Farin looked up into the face of his monstrous king, an old fear lighting his eyes. "Do you really think it is the East again? I thought with the Prince gone, things would finally settle down..."

"Prince Ralse is still out there," Bahamut said, remembering the cowardly man's escape. "He will return, and he will bring a greater force than ever when he does. But that is not my concern at the moment."

"The monsters, then?" Farin said cautiously.

"Yes. Those are not the work of Prince Ralse, or any human. Just as I came to you in your time of need, so too, did something terrible come to the East. I feel it in the back of my mind."

_My sister waits for you in the East, my Herald. The Goddess Astarte has sent her Herald to prepare them for your coming, and soon you will have to meet him in combat. Do not trust anyone even remotely connected to the East, for the seduction of the Goddess is beyond any mortal's power to resist. She has forever been a being of lust, greed, and power. Her only desire is to be worshipped, and she now has the East in her mighty thrall. Even those who you once thought friends are not immune to her power and will betray you for her boons. Expel all Easterners, kill all Order members. Only those who worship the Master of Ice shall remain in this realm._

Bahamut mulled over Doom's warnings to him. He had listened to his Masters' words, and done his best to cleanse his country of all undesirables. Even Advisor Barden, who had accompanied him to Narsille and stood by him in all things, was told to leave at once and return to East Jidorik. Such was the will of Chemosh.

"What is happening to our world, my lord?" Farin asked, hoping the almost god-like Bahamut knew more than he about the odd phenomena flooding the land.

"Just be patient, and have faith in you king, Farin. This is a time of wild magic and warring gods, and we must all do our best to weather this storm. Have faith in me, and we will see this through." Bahamut tried to smile, but his dragon's maw would not allow it. As he looked at Farin, he appeared as a predator, grinning before his meal, instead of a benevolent ruler, and Farin unconsciously stepped away in instinctive fear.

While Bahamut and Farin talked, Lucius had crept in once again unnoticed. Only when the conversation ceased did Bahamut realize the man was standing at the other end of the hallway, quietly observing them. Hrimthurs came shortly in after him with a confused look on his thick features. Apparently he had lost track of the man in the short time they had been gone.

"Well?" Bahamut said tiredly. He did not really care what the fate of the judged man was.

"His will was not strong enough." Lucius said cryptically, not moving.

"As long as he is no longer a threat to the kingdom, that is all that matters to me." Bahamut said, not fully understanding Lucius's words. With Lucius's reappearance, there was only one thought on his mind at the moment.

"To the kingdom? No, he is no longer a threat to the kingdom." Lucius said in his odd, tired tones.

Bahamut shifted in his seat again, stretching his wings shakily. His tail slapped the tiled floor while he fingered one of his large teeth with a single talon. While he fidgeted, he kept looking at Lucius, waiting for some dreadful answer only he could give. Finally, he could not wait any more.

"Lucius, what of my wife? Surely it must be time?" Bahamut's voice sounded oddly human as he spoke, and his impatient mannerisms were that of a very nervous man, not an immovable Esper King.

"Shivar will inform me when it is time, Sire." Lucius said with his impossible calmness. "Any moment now..."

"Are you my wife's doctor or not!" Bahamut snapped. He stood up quickly and began walking towards the golden doors, then remembered that he no longer could fit through them. "Urgh! I cannot wait any longer! I must see my wife!" With a thrust that flattened the tiles beneath him, Bahamut leaped into the air and darted through the hole in the ceiling, disappearing in a burst of blue fire.

The three remaining retainers seemed to know exactly what their unpredictable king intended, and hurried out of the throne room, with Lucius last. He hobbled behind the others in his painfully awkward gait, closing the doors carefully behind him.

By the time the slow-moving Lucius arrived where he knew his king must have gone, Farin and Hrimthurs were already waiting, visibly nervous. They now stood in the labyrinthine garden maze at the center of Glastok Castle, watching and waiting for a miracle among miracles.

Beside the human chancellor and Esper bodyguard stood a slim male figure, glowing with a blue aura similar to that of mythril. He was immaculately dressed all in blue, and had the handsome face and perfect build of a well-bred nobleman. But he was not human. Like his dainty outfit, his skin and hair were also all blue, and a thin glittering glaze of frost covered most of his skin and clothes.

And in front of this unusual presence was Bahamut. The towering dragon was kneeling in front of a serpent-shaped fountain, busily fussing over some delicate prize hidden by his massive wingspan. But all present knew what was there, and gave their king a respectful distance.

The icy blue nobleman turned at the sound of Lucius's entrance and stared at the scarred man with equally blue eyes, no trace of emotion in his calm face or lazy posture.

"Lucius. It is almost time. Come and see." The man's voice was a careless drawl, as if he were asking Lucius to watch a leaf falling or a bird feeding.

"Very well Shivar. You will assist me in the delivery. Magic may be needed, and you are the only one with hands I trust among the Espers."

Lucius walked past the statue-like forms of Farin and Hrimthurs, and continued past Shivar, who followed him like a ghost. When he reached Bahamut, he put one disfigured hand on the king's scaly shoulder. The deep purple arc of scar tissue on the back of his hand pulsed quickly, revealing strain the rest of the man's form did not show.

"Sire, it is time. Please stand back."

Bahamut turned his head to look at Lucius, then stepped back, nodding as if in a trance. In front of him at the foot of the fountain lay a pale woman with long, golden hair, beautiful beyond any mortal description. Her body effused a warm golden glow, soothing the tension of everyone in the garden. The woman herself looked asleep, with her delicate white hands resting peacefully on her swollen belly. She wore a flowing blue gown, the same color as Shivar's, and behind her head hovered a large golden star, pulsing with light in time to her own inherent glow.

Her hair was damp with sweat at the moment, and the golden star pulsed faster and faster as her breathing quickened. Lucius studied the golden object intently, nodding at intervals. The woman gripped her stomach, with a grimace of pain tainting her pristine features. Lucius put his steady hand on her stomach, feeling the beat of twin hearts fighting furiously against his palm. This would not be an easy birth. There were too many unknowns, too many variables, and not enough time to study them all.

For a moment, visions of blood and horror filled the scarred man's vision, and then they were gone, like a dream. Lucius's face contorted in remembered pain, but a soft pressure on his hand brought him back. He saw two gentle hands clasped around his own wounded hand. All pain was washed away in the alluring embrace of the Star of the West. Lucius followed the hands up to their owner's face, and saw that her eyes were open, and the grimace of pain was gone.

"Do not worry. I trust you, and I trust the gods. Have faith, Doctor."

Lucius struggled with some profound inner turmoil, but the soothing touch of the woman helped him fight back the demons enough to do his job.

"Maria, my Starlet, faith is the one thing I have never had much of. But your will is strong, so very strong..." Lucius pulled back his hood and revealed a wild tangle of startlingly white hair, as white as snow. His horribly scarred face twisted and contorted as he struggled with the emotions the more-than-human beauty evoked in him. This would not be easy, for either of them.

"Shivar, come here. The contractions are increasing, and her temperature is decreasing. If she were still human, she would surely be dead by now. I can only guess what is happening inside her." Lucius's words were as steady and calm as ever, but his face twitched with an unwelcome and familiar tic, and the ugly scar on the hand that held the woman pulsed faster than ever.

"What is it, Lucius? What is happening to Maria?" Bahamut's voice boomed. He pushed his way back in front of the group, placing his large clawed hand over top of his wife's tiny frail ones. His entire body shook with nervous anticipation. For the moment, the Dragon was gone, and only Draco Christophe, the man, the husband, and the father existed.

Shivar appeared next to Bahamut, softly gliding between him and Lucius. "My Lord, please, this is a delicate situation, and you must stand back. We would not want to injure the Lady Starlet."

"Her name is Maria!" Bahamut snarled, but forced himself to step back behind Shivar and Lucius. "Her name is Maria..." he said softly, only to himself.

"Doctor, the drop in body temperature is due to an increase in magical power," Shivar said as he placed his own frigid hand on Starlet's forehead. "It is a perfectly natural reaction to a weakening state. As long as the womb is not affected, the children should be safe. We must hurry, though."

"I know!" Lucius said waspishly, unlike his usual stoic self. "Just keep monitoring her magical essence while I check to see if she is fully dilated yet. Understand?"

"Of course. But doctor..."

"Just be quiet and let me work!" Lucius snapped. Sweat was visible on his brow now, and as he discreetly lifted the sky-blue gown to check the birth's progress, his mouth turned downward in a grimace. "Impossible! It hasn't dilated at all. It's as if her body doesn't even know she's pregnant!"

"What?" Bahamut yelled, forcing his wide, spiny head back into the scene. "What does that mean?"

Lucius rudely shoved Bahamut back, heedless of the cuts he received from the sharp horns and spines. "It means this new Esper body cannot, or should I say _will_ not, give birth to your children!" Lucius lowered the gown and yelled back at the waiting Farin. "Farin, get my tools. I'm going to have to open her up and take the children."

Farin ran off like a man on fire, and within a minute handed Lucius a very old-looking bag of surgical tools. The bag looked much like its owner - beaten, torn, and stained with soot and grime. But the tools were perfectly clean and sterile, and far more precisely honed than anything to be found in a regular Jidorikan hospital. He had known that this operation might be necessary, given the unusual anatomy of his patient, and had made sure his own tools were ready for the task. Now, it was just a matter of being up to task himself. He knew he was an excellent doctor, far superior to the butchers to be found elsewhere in the country, but this was something that had never been done before.

"Shivar, you must keep an eye, or whatever it is you use, on Maria's magical condition. I can only monitor her physical body. If she shows any signs of being in danger, you must let me know!"

"I understand, doctor. Do what you know how to do, and leave the rest to me, and to the gods." Shivar said in his usual emotionless voice.

"The gods be damned, I will save Maria with my own will!" Lucius shouted in an ugly voice, completely unlike his normal voice. His wild eyes blazed with concentration as he took the first of his tools and prepared to make the initial incision. He had done this a thousand times before, but who knew what might be lurking beneath this seemingly human skin? It was all pure insanity, but he had to keep pushing through, and do what had to be done.

The clear blue eyes of his patient looked at him placidly, and with complete trust. If she felt the pain of labor or Lucius's knife, she did not show it now.

"Have faith, Doctor." Starlet said, smiling beneficently. The warm glow from her body increased as her temperature continued to drop. The golden star at her head pulsed and shook, somehow staying in place by its own power.

Lucius winced at her words, but did not flinch from his procedure. As he cut into her soft flesh, glowing blue blood flowed outwards, freezing his hands as he tried to operate. The pain aggravated his old wounds, but he had to keep going. Through the abdominal wall, and then between the stomach muscles and then through the uterus to the children within...but something was wrong. This was not like a human body at all, despite Starlet's pleasing outward appearance...

"Shivar, what is going on?" Lucius asked, his voice trembling.

"I am not sure, Doctor. Her temperature is still dropping, and her magical essence is strong...but her body is having trouble keeping up with the increased demands. She may die."

Lucius cursed under his breath, and continued to survey the foreign scene in front of him. Like her blood, her internal tissues were blue and ice coldl, and her visible organs were not quite the right shape or size. There were several odd structures of unknown material he could not identify scattered throughout the exposed portion of her stomach wall, as well, and Lucius assumed they must have something to do with utilizing her magical powers and maintaining her Esper body. Whether they were vital or not, the poor human doctor could only guess.

Beneath the abdominal wall, the muscles were solid and hard, harder than human bone, and he could not separate them simply by stretching and pulling as normal. He knew the children were underneath this wall of magically enhanced tissue, but his knife could barely scrape them, let alone cut through. He tried with all his strength to get around the muscle, but more blue blood began to flow from her open wound, and soon Lucius's hands were frozen to the point he could barely move them.

"Shivar, I need your help! Place your hands here, and then here." Lucius commanded, hoping Shivar's cold hands could do what his feeble human ones could not.

Shivar obediently took his hands off Starlet's forehead and placed them where Lucius told him. He felt the coldness from inside her, but it meant nothing to his own frigid skin. "Now what, doctor?"

"Hold this scalpel, and channel your magic into it. It might work..." Lucius said uncertainly, trying to remember everything he had witnessed Espers do during the past five months. Weapons wielded with an Esper's magical power were far more powerful than when held by a human, so perhaps...

Shivar took the small blade and cut where Lucius told him, pushing his own frozen aura along the blade's length. Starlet cried out in pain despite herself, and a fresh gush of blue blood erupted from the new wound Shivar was slowly making in her stone-hard tissue.

"Stop! You're killing her!" Bahamut shouted from behind them. He had extended his wings outwards and threatened to knock the whole group away.

"Draco, have faith..." Starlet said slowly, her speech slurred as she lost more and more blood. "I will...be alright...my love..."

"I won't lose her again! Save her, or you will all die by my hand this night!" Bahamut roared, a hint of the Dragon in his voice now.

Lucius ignored his lord's threats and continued guiding his Esper assistant through the surgery. If he could not save Starlet, he knew his life would be over regardless of her husband's fury. He could not lose her again, either.

"Shivar, careful. There! Look at that!"

Both men gasped as they saw a bright red object emerge beneath the cold, blue muscle. It was a large sac, pulsing with vigorous red life, fever hot and completely human. Somehow, her body had managed to integrate the human womb into her very non-human Esper anatomy. But blood was blood, and the more the mother lost, the more danger the children were in.

"That's enough Shivar, give me the scalpel. This is a purely human operation now." Lucius said with renewed confidence. But there was so much blood...

"Ah, Draco, it _hurts_!" Starlet gasped, feeling the blade cut into the one part of her body that was still as fragile as a human's.

Bahamut roared in impotent anguish, but did not harm Lucius or Shivar. Inside, he was fighting harder than he ever had before to quell the Dragon's rage, and he wasn't sure how long he could hold on.

_I must not falter. I am Draco Christophe, I am the king of West Jidorik, and I will not submit to you!_

_You will submit, pawn! Let the unstoppable fury of Bahamut consume you. Forget your human past, forget your human loves and desires. You're so close to being whole, and then nothing will stop you, no one will hold a place in your soul but me. And then the justice of the Dragon will be absolute and untainted by human emotions. Is that not want you want? To be a perfect executor of divine judgment, unmoved by petty mortal concerns?_

_No! This is not what I wanted! I must rule with a heart full of compassion, not indifference..._

_The human heart is weak. Look. Look how it beats in the breast of your beloved Starlet. Soon she will die, because she clung too closely to her own humanity._

_Her name is Maria! And you will not have her! I will save her, and my children!_

_I have owned her since the moment she was created. If I so chose, I could destroy her at this moment with a thought. And it would be by your power that the deed would be done._

_Never! I..._

_You are mine, Herald. Do as I say, and she might live. I can save her with a thought as well. She has the power within her to heal any wound, if only she could know how to access it. I can grant her the power to save herself just as I granted you the power to save her once before._

_By turning her into this cold-blooded Esper, devoid of free will!_

_Do you want to save your love or not?_

Bahamut struggled within himself for what seemed an eon, watching his wife slowly grow whiter and whiter as the blood drained out of her. His vision clouded and his senses dulled as he realized he was giving in to Doom's demands. He had no choice.

_So be it. Save my wife. Save Maria. Save my children._

_Good. You are a fine Herald. So easily manipulated! See how weak the heart can be! Hahahaha..._

As Bahamut submitted wholly to the Dragon and lifted up into the night sky, he heard two final sounds, very different from each other. One was the horrible death rattle of Doom's laughter...the other was the glorious cry of two pairs of powerful lungs letting the world know they had arrived, healthy and hungry.


	91. Dragon and Star, 'Old Ghosts'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.3 - Old Ghosts**

_Dear Giorgio,_

_It is with a heavy heart I have to inform you that your nephew, Paolo, was tried and executed as a traitor to the King of West Jidorik a week ago, at the time of this letter. His two daughters, Julia and Vera, were found dead the next day, apparently attacked by wild monsters in their father's absence. With the death of your niece only a few months ago, I know this must be an unspeakable blow to you. I urge you to stay strong and not lose sight of your life's work, even as the world goes to hell around us. Remember who your friends are, and do not hesitate to call on my services if needed. I will keep in touch. I have also enclosed a keepsake of Paolo's that I believe may help in this time of grief._

Giorgio Gabbianni clenched the letter in his fist, shaking with a smoldering rage he had tried his best to keep under control these long years. The old man stood alone in his study, having just received the fateful letter by carrier pigeon that morning. He had expected the letter to be from Paolo himself, confirming his departure from the increasingly dangerous West with his children. After his niece, Paolo's wife, had been killed inadvertently by the East's own primitive missile attacks several months ago, Giorgio had urged his nephew to return to the East before it was too late. Paolo was supposed to have arrived in a few days, safe and sound.

Instead, a letter from his unknown contact in the West arrived, revealing the true barbarity of the West to Giorgio's eyes more clearly than ever. With a sweep from his powerful arms, several piles of blueprints and mathematical formulas went flying from his cluttered work desk. A cloud of dust rose from his discarded plans for glory and fame and hung in the early morning light like tiny ghosts. He sputtered and cursed, half-choked with dust, tears, and wrath. Several wooden models of boats and birds crashed to the floor and shattered to pieces as he continued to vent his wild emotions.

It was not right for an old man to outlive his entire family. Giorgio Gabbianni was the greatest shipwright in the East, perhaps the world now, but at the moment, he felt like a feeble, useless fool. People called him a genius, a visionary...so how had he failed so miserably at predicting this particular tragedy? What could he have done differently to avoid the deaths of everyone he cared about?

_I could have finished what I started. I had cursed Prince Ralse as a warmongering demon, and stopped working on his warship the moment he was dethroned. The man was a monster, but he was right. The West did pose more of threat than any of us believed, and now I have paid the price for my lack of loyalty. _

Giorgio stopped his lament for a moment, opening his fist. His nails had dug into the flesh of his palm, and the letter was now stained with his own blood. Something metal glinted inside the crumpled letter. Along with the bloody missive, the mysterious sender had also sent Paolo's and Anna's wedding rings, attached by a thin necklace of silver.

The rings had been fashioned by Giorgio himself, in the ever-burning furnaces of the Eastern foundries where he did his work. Two gold rings inlaid with faint mythril lines that made them glow with that strange blue aura. Around the edges of the rings the proud uncle had inscribed the newlywed's names, along with a sun and moon with beautiful star patterns to surround them, each star twinkling with its own mythril light. Both rings contained a large diamond, cut to a perfection the jewelers of the West could only dream of. Yes, these rings were the finest things Giorgio had ever fashioned, each worth a kingdom, and he had happily given them to his nephew and niece, the last remaining heirs to the Gabbianni family line. He would happily throw the rings back into the pit they came from to see their faces one more time.

But he would keep these treasures now, and wear them always as a reminder of what the West had taken from him. With steadying hands, Giorgio placed the necklace around his own sagging neck and looked wearily at his desk. In front of him the sun was rising slowly, as it always did, day in and day out. The rays of light lazily fell through the window onto the one remaining blueprint on his desk. It was the massive flying warship Prince Ralse had asked, no, _demanded_ he build. The final weapon in the war against the West, the Prince had said. The Ascalon it was called, and when completed, would have filled the skies of the West with dread at the mere sight of it. It would have ended the war in a single blow.

But that blow never came. Ralse had gotten impatient, and launched his newly fashioned missiles at the West, hoping for the best. The missiles were the latest batch of new technology stolen from Narsille and were only barely understood by the ignorant Jidorikan machinists. Giorgio could tell at a glance that it was crazy to use such weaponry without testing them first, but had kept his peace. Up until that point, the shipwright had remained relatively aloof from political affairs, and focused solely on his work. The war in the West was a distant thing, not to be concerned with. All that mattered was the great machines he was building. Machines with no equal outside of the cloistered Narsille. His family in the West, Paolo's family, was supposedly safe and far from the fighting. Supposedly.

As suspected, many of the missiles veered wildly off course. Some made it to the front lines as intended, but many more screamed over the Western soldiers' heads, landing miles away in fields, forests...and homes. Countless innocent civilians died that night, among them Anna, Giorgio's niece.

Ralse had been defeated and forced to vanish into the northern hills shortly afterwards, his own over-reaching ambition catching up with him. The letter informing Giorgio that his niece Anna, his last true blood-relative, had been killed in the missile attacks came only a few days before word of Ralse's defeat. Immediately all work on the Ascalon was halted, and the workers sent home. The war had finally reached Giorgio Gabbianni, and it hit him hard.

For nearly a month Giorgio did nothing, did not even leave his study. Apathy had been replaced with a deep sorrow. In one fell swoop, Giorgio was sick of the war. Everyone thought it was over with Prince Ralse gone, but Giorgio had his suspicions, even then. He pleaded with his nephew to take what was left of his family out of the West and join him within the much stronger walls of the East, but Paolo was stubborn like the rest of the West and refused to leave his home.

_Why was everyone in the West so stubborn? Why did they refuse to submit against our superior forces, and why did Paolo stay? And why now do they still haunt us with tidings of a new, even greater war? What will it take to bring them to their senses?_

The Ascalon's grim skeleton peered up at him silently from its blueprints. Tossing the cursed letter aside, Giorgio put his hand flat on the curling paper, straightening it. A few drops of blood from his palm stained the blueprints as well. It seemed a fitting signature, and the old shipwright made no attempt to wipe the blood away. With a grim smile, Giorgio studied the plans to what would have been his second greatest creation, behind the unparalleled craftsmanship of the twin rings he now wore around his neck.

_Is this it? Will this put a stop to this madness? Or will it only make things worse?_ _Does it even matter now? I have no heir, no one to carry on the Gabbianni name. This thing...this "airship" is all I have left to my name now._

"So be it." he intoned gravely, folding the Ascalon's blueprints back up and tucking them under his arm. With a swift step he left his study and returned to the outside world a changed man. The Prince may be gone, but his spirit still dwelled in the might of the East, and Giorgio Gabbianni would see to it that the Prince's final order was obeyed. If only he had moved sooner, if only he had listened...

"Master Giorgio! Where are you going this early?" a young man dressed in the fine robes of the East said, surprised to see his master out of his study before breakfast.

Giorgio brushed past his assistant, his sights set on only one person now. "To finish what I started," he said gruffly, leaving his assistant baffled.

The path to his destination was a long one, and one the aging man did not usually make without a carriage, or more recently, one of the smoky self-propelled machines that filled the air of the capital city of East Jidorik with a perpetual haze. The "chocobo-less carriage" the vehicle was hailed as, and it had been Giorgio that had fashioned the first of them, based off more of that wonderful stolen Narsillian machinery. They were ugly, squat things that chugged along set paths throughout the major cities of the East like giant, wheeled beetles on rails, spewing dangerous fumes everywhere they went. Giorgio hated them, but they made travel much easier. And he had to admit, the smell wasn't that much worse than a chocobo.

Now, though, Giorgio felt like walking. No, he felt like _running_, but his weak legs would not let him work off his boiling anger that easily. It was five miles from his quiet private workshop in the outlying hills to the squirming mass of pipes and steel that made up the soot-stained heart of East Jidorik - Castle Ralse. He was sure the coal-laced steam that poured out from the castle's outer structure would be the death of him someday, but not today. Old King Ralse would see him today, and work on the Ascalon would begin again, with a vengeance.

The walk was long and hard, and Giorgio was panting by the time he reached the iron gates of Castle Ralse several hours later. The castle itself was as depressingly black and gritty as the majority of the industrialized regions of the East, and looked more like a great quivering mountain of metal, with various pieces of machinery hanging off it or rising in twisting shapes up into the sky. It was a marvelous work of mechanical genius, almost fully automated, but it was ugly and dirty. Giorgio hated it, despite being responsible for many of its innovations. Why did everything modern have to be so unpleasant to the eyes? Did Narsille look like this inside its mighty mythril gates, before its destruction?

As he grimaced at his own grime-laced work around him, the iron doors whined, and opened themselves. Giant gears spun above and beside the doors, pulling and pushing the iron slabs apart. Giorgio coughed at the smoke that was exhaled in the effort, but pressed on into the castle. Metal walls, metal floors, metal ceilings, everything gleamed with a ruddy, oily light as Giorgio passed through the winding halls of Castle Ralse. Gas lighting, another parlor trick snatched from Narsille's bag of marvels. The almost magical technology of electricity was still years away from being perfected, and perhaps would never be fully realized now that Narsille was gone. For now, the smelly gas lights filled the halls and homes of the East. They made most places smell like a swamp, and Giorgio hated using them unless he had to. There was nothing but simple candles and fireplaces in his secluded study. No gears, no gas, no grime.

The Serpent Throne, the great seat of Eastern power, was empty when Giorgio arrived in the throne room. He expected as much these days. It was almost noon, but old King Ralse rarely sat in his throne unless to conduct official business for the public. Most of the time, the country was ruled from the ailing king's bedside. King Ralse was only ten years older than Giorgio, but life had taken its toll on the man, and despite being in his seventies, he looked and acted like he was a hundred. Constantly worrying if your own son would murder you in your sleep would do that to anyone, Giorgio supposed. He wouldn't know, since he had never found the time to marry or have kids of his own.

Giorgio staggered up the small, stepped rise that led to the throne's stage. Two soldiers with guns stood in attendance, guarding the abandoned block of marble and gold. They drew their rifles at the sight of the brazen intruder, but lowered them when they recognized the famed shipwright.

"Where is King Ralse? I must speak to him at once." Giorgio said curtly.

The soldiers looked at each other, then shrugged. Giorgio was an honored guest in Castle Ralse, and the King always made time for him. "Lord Ralse is sitting with Advisor Barden and Lord Dunn-Raven, in the war room."

Giorgio laughed, a hacking sound rising in his throat as he breathed in the unhealthy air. The "war room" was nothing more than a secondary bedroom, set up only a few paces from King Ralse's actual bedroom. It was larger, and had a great oaken table for meetings, but the king never sat at it. Instead, he had a small mechanical bed that he used as transport from one room to another in the castle. It was a sad sight to see the king wheeled around like a broken-down cart, but his health would not allow any strenuous activity. Giorgio wondered if the stifling air of the castle had something to do with the king's worsening condition. He felt he lost a year off his life every time he visited the castle, and couldn't imagine anyone living here.

When Giorgio found the King, he was slightly startled by his gaunt appearance. It had been almost a year since he had seen the man, but once again, it looked like the man had aged ten years for every one of his own. His long, stark white hair was thin and balding, and his skin was a sickly yellow, like old paper. The once proud and firm features of the Ralse line now sank beneath folds of jaundiced skin, seeming to vanish into his skull at points. The rich red robes hung off his bony frame like an oversized coat, and Giorgio could see to his dismay that the king's feet were bare, and he only wore a night gown under the regal robes. The movable bed seemed to swallow his fragile body in its covers, and the smell of medicine filled the entire room. The King's advisor, Barden, stood over him like the loyal son he never had, making sure he was still breathing. It was a sad sight, and Giorgio knew the king was at death's door.

The king may have looked like death, but the strange man standing on his other side looked even worse. Only his one hand and part of his face were visible, with the rest of his body covered by dirty-looking rags the color and texture of a funeral shroud. Stray bits of the cloth swayed and flitted around him, despite there being no breeze in the stuffy war room. The man's exposed flesh was even whiter than the king's hair and impossibly emaciated, and unless Giorgio was imagining things, it looked like he only had the one arm. His face was a death mask, with almost no skin visible at all. Just a thin membrane stretched over a skull with a sunken, abyssal gaze that showed no signs of life. It was the most horrible-looking human being Giorgio had ever seen, dead or alive.

"I, ah..." Giorgio struggled, his voice lost at the sight of the unpleasant man hovering over the king like Death itself. "King, I must speak with you immediately. It is about the Ascalon..."

"Not now, Giorgio," Barden whispered angrily from the king's side. "We have an important matter to discuss with Lord Dunn-Raven, and your toys can wait."

Giorgio turned to the skeletal man hanging silently on the other side of the king's bed. "Lord Dunn-Raven, I presume?"

"I am," the man said in a raspy voice that rattled through the air and seemed to fall apart as it reached Giorgio's ears. He slowly turned an indifferent eye to Giorgio, then back to Barden. "Please tell this man to leave us, Barden..."

"Now wait a minute!" Giorgio spluttered. "I will be heard! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Please, Giorgio, Lord Dunn-Raven is a respected guest here. He has been in close contact with the West, and has been filling us in on what has been happening over there."

"Is that so? I can tell you what's been happening over there just as well as this ghoul can!" Giorgio said with rising anger. "I just received word that my entire remaining family has been murdered by that tyrant Christophe, and I demand an audience with the king!"

Barden shuddered at the grief-stricken Giorgio's words. He knew the truth of them as well as anyone, having been forcibly removed from Draco Christophe's hall upon the king's return from Narsille. There was no doubt King Christophe had returned a new man...if that's what he even was now. Barden had seen Draco crash into the Dragon Hall that night, and would never forget the monstrous dragon and his rage. Now, his only contact with the West was through this pale stranger, Lord Dunn-Raven. The man had proven invaluable in gauging the power of the West, and the stories he was bringing back were terrifying. Monsters were running amok in West Jidorik, and this self-styled Lord claimed he could ensure the East's survival when Draco...no, Bahamut finally decided to unleash his bestial horde on their people. Looking into Giorgio Gabbianni's face, though, Barden knew survival was not enough for this man anymore. There was a familiar look of bloodlust in the normally calm face of Giorgio now. Barden had seen that look before, in the face of Prince Ralse.

"Wait..." a tiny voice floated up from the heap between the two aides. It was the king, struggling to be heard. "Let him speak."

No one spoke. The king's voice was so frail everyone was afraid if they tried to talk, they would miss anything else he might have to say. And they all knew he did not have much left to say before he was silent forever.

"Giorgio, what has happened?" King Ralse's voice spoke faintly, but clearly.

"King, the West has gone too far, and is killing off anyone even remotely connected with the East." Giorgio said after a moment. "They must be stopped before it is total genocide. I request a formal renewal of construction on the Ascalon flying warship."

The king coughed, and tried to turn his head to look at Giorgio. Barden saw his intent and gently turned the king's bed so he could face the shipwright.

More coughing, and then, "Giorgio...you must not let your anger and pride control you. I will be dead soon, and there will be no one to sit on the Serpent Throne when I am gone...because of the anger and pride of my son. I, too, am the only one left of my line, and I know your despair. If you do this thing, if you complete Chad's flying herald of death...it will be the end of both nations..." King Ralse's voice broke, and he was racked with a series of blood-flecked coughs.

"Sire!" Barden said, reaching for the king and holding him steady. Giorgio rushed to the king's side as well, worried that his demands would kill his king. Lord Dunn-Raven remained motionless where he stood, studying the dying king with an intensely unsettling fascination.

"Enough...I must rest." King Ralse said with effort after he had recovered himself. "All this talk of death and war is more than I can bear." The King turned his head slightly in Lord Dunn-Raven's direction. "Lord Dunn-Raven...I will not agree to an assassination attempt on the West's King. Even if he has become a monster as you and Barden say, he is still king, and I will not follow in my son's misguided footsteps and slay another ruler in cold blood." The King turned his tired head to Giorgio next. "And Giorgio, I cannot agree to let you finish your warship. It is an abomination and must not be allowed to exist. These are strange times we are living in now, but we must remain human. Do you hear me, Giorgio? We must not become monsters ourselves in order to defeat monsters. Where is the man who made those rings around your neck? Remember him, Giorgio, before you decide to tread the path of my poor, poor Chad."

Tears filled the ancient king's eyes, and he was far too weak to wipe them away. He merely sank back into his bed and sighed, flicking his hand to leave. "Take me to my room, Anton."

Barden snapped to attention, tears in his eyes as well. "Yes, Sire."

"We will talk again later, I hope?" Dunn-Raven said casually as Barden wheeled his dying king away.

"Unless something changes with our relations with the West, then no, we will have no further use of you or your services, Lord Dunn-Raven." Barden said for the king, glaring at the unmoved Dunn-Raven. The man did not even seem human at times.

"That is unfortunate, quite unfortunate," Dunn-Raven said with an idle flip of his one arm. He stood in place and watched Barden and the King vanish into the adjoining bedroom. When the doors were slammed shut, he turned to Giorgio and studied the man with those sunken dead eyes.

Apparently seeing what he was looking for, he moved over to the man with a gliding step that did not seem to quite reach the floor. The stench of rotting flesh rose up into Giorgio's nose, and he instinctively backed away. The more he watched Dunn-Raven, the less human the man seemed.

"Do not fear me, Giorgio Gabbianni." Dunn-Raven said softly. "We have much in common, you and I. We would very much like to help you, if the King will not."

"And who is this 'we', eh? Just where are you from? Who are you really?" Giorgio said as sternly as he could, but inside, he was frozen with an unnamed fear. There was a crackling aura emanating from the ghostly Lord, and he felt that if the man came any closer, Giorgio would faint from the powerful presence surrounding the man.

"I am no one." Dunn-Raven said darkly. As he spoke, the rags fluttered more violently, but there was still no wind in the room. "We can help you finish the Ascalon, and with my master's help, it will be more powerful than you could ever imagine."

"I don't need anyone telling me how to do my job, thank you." Giorgio said angrily. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the Ascalon was a perfect killing machine. Nothing short of magic could make it any more destructive than it already was, and that was fine with him. The King was right, the Ascalon was an abomination. The only question was whether it was a necessary one.

"Giorgio, Giorgio...you are blinded by your own brilliance."

The voice that answered him was not the ghastly Dunn-Raven. Giorgio spun around and watched as a shadowy figure stepped out from behind one of the curtains with an arrogant flourish.

"Prince Ralse? But how...?" Giorgio faltered, dumbstruck.

The young prince stepped around the meeting table and stood next to Lord Dunn-Raven, his vigorous youth positively glowing next to the decaying wight. "My friend here is very adept at getting me where I want to go. He is adept at a great many things that might interest you, Giorgio." Prince Ralse held out his hand to Giorgio like an old friend. "Won't you join us? The Ascalon is my dream too, you know. My father is too weak to do what needs done, but I can help you. I have power, and I know how to use it. I conquered the West once, and I intend to do it again. With your help, it will happen. Come, Giorgio, realize your dream. It's all you have left now."

Giorgio did not know how to respond to this unexpected turn of events. He wanted vengeance for the death of his family, but he hated the prince, and blamed his arrogant recklessness for Anna's death. There were devils on both sides of Jidorik, and he was looking into the eyes of one right this moment.

_Draco Christophe will pay for what he has done. Even if I have to make a deal with this fiend to do it, I will pay him back blood for blood. The Gabbianni's will not be forgotten, ever!_

"Chad Ralse, I hate your guts," Giorgio burst out in an odd, strangled voice. The Prince only smiled.

"But...," Giorgio said, struggling for each word, "I hate the Dragon of the West even more. He is a mad hound, and must be put down, for all our sakes."

"Yes, yes, I am glad you see the bigger picture, Giorgio." Prince Ralse said in rapid tones. "Shall we go, then? I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry. There are many things to take care of today. Many people to meet."

"Go? Go where? Back to my workshop?" Giorgio asked.

"Why, to the north, of course. As much as I would like to, I can't kill my father now and take the reigns of the kingdom yet, not with my reputation what it is here. For now, I must bide my time with the brutes of the Zozo mountains. I assure you that everything you need to complete the Ascalon is there, however. I have been very busy."

Giorgio shuddered at the Prince's flippant attitude towards murdering his own father. Was he really going to let this man help him? Just how far was he willing to go for his goals?

"I see you still have your doubts. Fine. Think things over for a few days. I will keep in touch." Prince Ralse moved closer to Dunn-Raven, and put one hand on the deathly man's shoulder, like an old friend. "Look at what you have left, Giorgio. How do you want the Gabbianni name to be remembered? Follow my father, and you will cease to exist, a forgotten man in a forgotten time. Follow us, and you will be legend. The things I have seen, Giorgio...endless halls of gold...an entire world at our feet, and nothing to stop us...not even the gods themselves. Think about it, Giorgio. Think about what you want. Until then..."

With a sweep of the strangely flowing rags that surrounded them both, Prince Chad Ralse and Lord Dunn-Raven vanished from Giorgio's sight. He nearly collapsed at the shock of it, but quickly recovered. What had the Prince meant? Just what was lurking beneath the city he had helped build? Giorgio must find out what the deposed Prince intended to do. There were depths he was willing to lower himself to for the death of his family, but having a hand in the murder of old King Ralse was not one of them. There was only one king he intended on removing at the moment.

Giorgio Gabbianni had been asleep for too long, and he felt completely out of his depth with these new times. It was time to wake up. Feeling like he was just climbing out of some surreal dream, Giorgio blinked and walked slowly out of the war room. He fingered the two rings at his neck absently, wondering what Anna would say about allying himself with her murderer. What would Paolo and his children say if he let their murderer run free, to devour more innocent lives? There was blood on all sides of this pointless conflict, and Giorgio sighed heavily as he left the castle. There was blood on everyone's hands now, so why not his?

He looked at the curled up plans in his hands, and he could see where he had stained the Ascalon's blueprints with blotches of red. Yes, blood for blood. There would be a tidal wave of blood coming soon. He could either ride it, or be drowned by it.


	92. Dragon and Star, 'Blue Skies, Blue Eyes'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.4 - Blue Skies, Blue Eyes**

The journey home was a long one. Flapping frantically to gain height, the little bird left the quiet hill of green behind, and began its trek across Jidorik as mechanically as the wind-up toys popular in the East. Below, the hills flattened, and turned from green to an unhealthy yellow, then the flat brown of empty fields, waiting to be tilled. Rails and pipelines replaced the rolling fields, and grey skies replaced blue. Then black replaced grey.

Faltering, the little bird rose above the bloated cloud before it, avoiding the unpleasant air above Castle Ralse and its surroundings. Hours went by, and the bird did not tire. The clouds below were dark and fulsome with the might of the East. But the little bird did not care at all about the scene below. The clear skies above and beyond were its only care at the moment. There were many miles, and many days before it would reach its destination, the path locked into its tiny mind like a well-choreographed dance, performed countless times.

Three days went by, and soon the mottled, unnatural landscape of the industrious East gave way once again to rolling fields. Green and blue returned to the world, and the little bird lowered itself to a more comfortable altitude. To the north, a great thunderstorm raged across the Zozo mountain range, an unusual sight at this time of the year. The southern tip of this long, narrow range threatened to cut right down the middle of the Jidorik plains like a knife separating East from West, their glacially slow progress down to the sea far beyond the time scales of man. Such things were beyond the consideration of the little bird, as well, and it continued due west on its tireless longitudinal dance.

One more day, and the great Medina River lazily emerged over the horizon. This was the official demarcation between East Jidorik and West Jidorik, and the half-way point in the bird's journey. Stopping at the riverbank for a short rest, the bird pecked at the clear, untainted water. The river was higher than normal, the persistent storms in the northern mountains filling it to the brim with fresh rain water. The bird had refreshed itself here many times, but this time the water tasted different. There was something richer, more alive about the water coming down from the mountains now. Drinking only half its usual amount, the bird shot back into the clouds, filled with a strange vitality it had never known before. The bird asked no questions, and simply took the gift silently.

Two more days, and the vast forests of Glastok came into view. Blackened scars of previous battles spotted the forest canopy like craters. It would be many years before the fiery ravages of the East would be smoothed over by nature's endless march. Hidden in the western edges of the forest was Glastok Bastion, the most important fortification of the West. Once fallen, it now resumed its duties in watching over the eastern borders of West Jidorik.

Just beyond the forest and bastion rose the massive Glastok Castle, rising above the rest of the region on a small plateau that separated it from its surroundings like a great earthen throne. The trees of the forest stopped just outside the castle gates, but the bird did not stop. The castle was not its destination, not today.

That strange jolt of energy still invigorated the little bird, giving it speed it normally would not have at this point in the long flight. In just two hours, Glastok Castle was behind it, and the great plains of West Jidorik were in full view. Unlike the East, there were no black fumes or piles of metal dotting the landscape. It was a wonderfully bucolic landscape, filled with simple farms and rustic towns. The largest cities still maintained the rural aspect of the smaller towns, with barely anything taller than three stories rising above the cobblestone streets. A happy chirp escaped the bird as it sailed over this seemingly peaceful setting. A closer inspection would have revealed a world gripped in fear and uncertainty, but the bird's eyes were still set due west.

By the end of the seventh day, the bird had reached the limit of West Jidorik, and was closing in on its goal. The shorelines of the west appeared beneath it, sandy and pristine. A small port rose from the beach on wooden legs, alone except for a tiny trail that led back to civilization. There was only one vessel near the port, a modest-sized boat resting quietly less than a mile from the coast. This was the bird's destination.

As the boat came into view, the bird began the final steps of its dance, circling around and around as it descended. Like clockwork, a waiting hand was reaching out over the railing of the boat, its withered, wrinkled surface a familiar sight to the little bird. In a few minutes, the bird had reached the boat and hopped onto the hand, eager to receive its due reward. A tiny fish lay in the hand, and without hesitation the bird snatched the fishy prize up and gulped it down.

While the bird ate, another hand carefully untied the little scroll of paper from its leg. While the owner of the withered hands read the message, the bird hopped patiently along the railing, waiting for its next mission.

Lucius watched the little bird hop expectantly as he scanned the letter, not a care in the world beyond the little reward that waited at the end of each trip.

_Such a simple life you have. Fish and flying, flying and fish. East to West, West to East, with no strife in between. No memories of a dark past, no worries of a darker future. If only we all could live that way, free from sorrow and pain. But that is a child's dream, and I am no longer a child. But these two..._

"Dreaming again, Doctor?" a soft voice tinkled from behind the man as he ruminated. A beautiful woman in blue, glowing with an otherworldly aura of golden light, lay on a throne-like bed behind the man, her gaze as blue as her gown. Golden hair flowed in the sea breeze, and half-hidden behind her thick curls hovered an equally golden star, casting its silent glow over her entire being. She looked like a goddess in repose, lazily taking in the quiet waves around her. She was Starlet, and she was not human, but the two children nestled at her breast were.

"I have not dreamed in a long time, Mar-I mean, Starlet," Lucius croaked, a look of pain shooting across his scarred face. "Must I call you that, even when we are alone?"

"It is who I am, Doctor. And we are never alone. My Master is always with us, watching over everything I say, every thought I have." The woman's voice was as smooth and unchanging as the clear blue sky above. There was a deepness to her cold eyes that unsettled Lucius, and he made no pains to hide it.

"What has happened to you? Ever since that night, you have been acting differently, and yet you are still the same. I don't understand what is happening to you, but you will always be the Lady Maria to me. Can't you still be Maria to your children, at least?"

Hearing the disturbing tones of Lucius's voice, one of the infants began to cry. Hearing her twin brother's wails, the tiny girl started crying as well.

Starlet cooed affectionately at the two children in her arms, a slight warmth radiating outwards from her as she did. "There, there, Aquilas, Leonora...no more crying. You're just cold, that's all." Her warming embrace instantly calmed the two children as if by magic. When her eyes returned to Lucius's, there was a familiar glint in them, something unmistakably human, and profoundly sad.

"Was it right, Doctor?" she asked.

"Right?" Lucius had difficulty following Starlet's thoughts ever since the night she gave birth, and nearly died. It was as if there were two people inside that perfect form, struggling for supremacy. One as cold as a distant star, the other as warm and close as a mother's loving arms. Lucius did not know who he was speaking to sometimes, Maria or Starlet, or some combination of the two.

The blue eyes wavered, then stilled as she continued. "To bring these children into this world?" She caressed the soft heads of her children, her pale white hands a sharp contrast to the still-red tops of the newborns. One of them crinkled its face at her touch and made noises like it was about to cry. "Look how they cry for their missing mother."

Lucius was confused and out of sorts, as he often was these days. "Nonsense, you're right here. They're just cold."

The blue eyes rose to the sky and stared at the faint image of the twin moons, still visible like a mirage in the clear noon sky. That was what her life felt like these days - a mirage lost in a dream. "No...I can feel it, inside me. The woman that was their mother died long ago, in your arms."

Lucius stuttered, and nearly lost his balance on the ship's deck. He gripped the railing, disturbing the little bird's mindless prancing. "How did you...," he gasped, trying to push away the roaring sound in the back of his mind. For an instant, blood, flames, and tears filled his vision.

"Shh...," Starlet cooed, as if she were talking to one of her children. A gentle hand reached out and swept a stray, twisting lock of snow white hair from Lucius's face.

Lucius instantly felt the roaring sound fade away, and the deadly images shattered like glass. But the pieces were still buried there, jagged and ruthless in their irrevocability.

"I knew the moment I saw you again. Somehow, I knew we would meet again, Doctor."

Lucius looked at Starlet, perhaps seeing the real her for the first time since that night. Her hand rested on his, a quiet gesture of fellowship and love. Was she still in there? Sometimes it seemed like it had all been a dream, and this really was Maria holding onto him, looking at him as a protector and savior, just as she had before.

As he lost himself in those bottomless orbs, he felt like she was trying to tell him something that it was beyond her capability to say, perhaps even to think. The only thing that she could show of this desire was raw emotion and instinct, and even that was fading as her humanity slowly ebbed away with each passing week. As Lucius looked into those blue windows into Starlet's conflicted soul, what he saw was a mother's love, and fear.

"The children will be fine. I will make sure of it." Lucius said boldly. The slightly chilled hands quickly retracted, and the motherly look disappeared. Whatever Lucius had seen, it was gone now. Had he made a mistake?

"I could heal your flesh, Doctor, if you want me to." Starlet said in a distant voice, changing the subject. "My Master has shown me how."

Lucius jumped at the sudden change in direction. "Impossible," he blurted out automatically. As a doctor, he knew these burns would forever mar his appearance.

Starlet smiled, a foreign smile not like the old smile Lucius had once seen on a stormy night in another life. "Nothing is impossible now, in this world of gods and magic." The look in her eyes was a million miles away, a frozen window into another world that the good Doctor could know nothing of.

"Please don't talk like that, it's disturbing the children," Lucius said, quite disturbed himself. Whenever she talked of this "Master" of hers, it sent a thrill of primitive fear through him. She had never spoken of this Master until the night she had given birth. But Lucius had felt the weight of something ominous and hidden just behind her every word and action ever since coming to this part of the world. Something had happened on that night in the garden, but it was not the beginning, only a new door being opened in a long hallway, leading to places Lucius would rather not think about. But when this woman talked like this, he could not help but walk beside her down that unknown path, into the abyss. Was the Maria he had known truly gone? Only by walking with her on this path, to the utter end, could he be sure. And then...

"There is no going back to the man I once was, Mar-, I mean Starlet. There is no going back for either of us, is there?"

Starlet's eyes regained their sparkle of life as she gazed out over the blue-green waves. She must have seen something unpleasant out there in the endless ocean, for when her eyes turned back onto Lucius, the spark was gone and her face was cold and somber.

"Yes...no going back...there is only the future...cold and blue..."

Lucius said nothing, and stood against the railing of the boat, looking out at the waters where Starlet's gaze had wandered. In the distance he saw something large and white crest the surface. There was a mournful cry that sounded almost like a song, and then the great white hump vanished beneath the water.

As soon as the sound had faded, a man appeared from below decks. Beside him was the Esper Shivar. The man was young, and looked extremely uncomfortable in the current situation, whatever that may be, but the icy Esper showed no expression on his face at all, as usual. The two walked up to Starlet and Lucius as if summoned.

"The Captain grows restless out here in the open, Lady Starlet," the nervous man said, half bowing as he spoke. "Shivar thinks we should return to port, out of sight of any unwanted visitors."

"That is fine, Connor," Starlet said in a kind voice that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tell Cetus we may go now. I have had my fill of the ocean today."

Connor flinched at the name Cetus, but said nothing. To him, the giant white whale that swam just beneath them, out of sight, was still his Captain Bismark. Things had changed drastically since their escape from Narsille, and Connor had tried his best to understand what had happened. Some things were just beyond human comprehension, though, and after several months of waiting, he was convinced that the only course he could take was to listen to his Captain, as he always had. There was simply no other path to take in this strange new world.

Shivar looked out over the water, and after a moment of silent watching, the great white whale known as Cetus rose to the surface, then continued to rise out of the water until it was hovering alongside the ship, almost as large as the boat itself. There was a look of fierce anger in its one good eye, but nothing but a lifeless dull blue glow in the other eye.

"We must leave," the giant Esper said in a thick, wet voice. "Leviathan could be lurking anywhere out here, and I won't let the Maiden remain vulnerable like this. You've had your fun, Starlet, and now it's time to go home."

"I already agreed to return, Cetus," Starlet sniped. "If Bahamut were here you would not..."

The giant whale twisted its bulk around in a convulsion of anger, and roared, "Bahamut is not here! He is gone, on our Master's wretched business, and while he is gone, I am in charge! I am still Captain of this vessel, and every one on it, even you."

"Master Cetus, please do not strain yourself. We will return immediately." Shivar's cool voice interrupted, disarming the volatile Esper momentarily.

Cetus blew a jet of water from the top of his head, grumbling, "So now the dandy thinks he can calm me, like some pet? Fine! Just get the Maiden back to the port, and leave me in peace."

With a rude splash, Cetus fell back into the waters like a stone, and quickly sank out of sight, his tailfin flipping angrily as he dived. But he was not forgotten, and neither was his warning. The enemy was a master of the seas as well, and could at any moment decide to attack. Leviathan had been strangely silent, but that could change in an instant. The serpent-like Esper was as crafty as a snake, and no one doubted he would strike sooner or later, and that the first target would likely be his old nemesis, the Captain of the Maiden.

The sudden exit of Cetus had left everyone on deck drenched, and now both of Starlet's children were crying in full force.

"That Cetus...he thinks himself a Herald, but he is nothing compared to my Bahamut," Starlet said to herself, calming her children with her hands. Despite the violence they had just felt, Starlet's magical touch quieted them instantly.

Lucius watched as she deftly silenced the twins, unsettled. There was something unnatural in the way she cared for them. He wondered how she saw her two human children. She was a mighty Esper, an emissary of the gods, and they...they were mere mortals. Did she truly love them? Perhaps a part of her did, and always would. The blood-red fragment of her humanity that she still carried inside her, surrounded by the cold blue Esper flesh...did it throb with feeling whenever she looked at what she had created? Where was Maria fading to, and how much longer until there was nothing but Starlet?

_These children will never know their father, and will have only a dim memory of their mother. I am the only link to the humans that created them now. I had never planned on being parent, had thought it impossible...and yet as I look at the twins in the arms of their increasingly distant mother, I feel the burden of responsibility to care for them. I brought them into this horrible world, and I don't know if I can just sit by and watch as they are raised by a being that just might be incapable of truly loving them, or even regarding them as alive. _

_Espers and humans...how could I have foolishly thought we had any common ground? Why did I come to this place? I had thought the home Maria spoke of would be different, better, but it is has the same stench as Narsille. Everywhere is the same. Only I am different, and it is up to me to guide this world if no one else has the sense to see what is happening. There are many wills, but mine will prove to be the strongest in the end. I swear it!_

"Come, Doctor, the children are hungry, and my body cannot feed them," Starlet sad in her kind-but-not-quite-there voice. She handed Aquilas and Leonora to him, and glided back down to the cabin below. Cetus had spoiled her mood, as he usually did.

"Of course, Starlet," Lucius said, pulling the old mask over his features. Only Starlet could bring out any emotion from him these days, and when she was gone, he reverted to the cold, emotionless husk that haunted the halls of Glastok Castle. If he didn't wear this mask, the roaring madness might return and consume him, perhaps for good this time. When Maria finally vanished beneath the guise of Starlet, would Lucius's own humanity join her?

Before joining the others below decks, Lucius quickly scrawled a return message for the patiently waiting, and somewhat damp, carrier pigeon.

_Giorgio, _

_I know how you feel about your life's work, but you must continue working for the sake of both our nations. Ralse is a horrible man with horrible dreams, but his goal is the same as ours at the moment. Do not worry about his intentions, and focus solely on the Ascalon for now. When the time comes, it will not be Ralse and his followers that win, but the world, and peace. I am aware of all that he does, and soon you will see the true face of this war as I have. Remember your friends when that time comes, and do not falter in your dreams, no matter what you may find in the mountains of Zozo. Be safe, and remember your family. As always, your friend._

Lucius sealed the letter and curled it into a tight scroll. The little bird hopped obediently to his side, and waited while he attached the letter to its leg.

"Fly, my little friend," Lucius whispered, and lifted the bird into his hands. Sensing it was time for another long journey, the bird frantically flapped its wings and rose into the blue sky with its new message.

Once the bird was out of sight, Lucius turned and painfully made his way down below alone. Starlet had claimed she could heal his wounds, turn him back into the still-youthful man he once was. He had seen plenty of magic since Narsille, and knew that Starlet could heal almost any wound, as she had done to herself on the bloody night of her children's birth, just when he had though all hope was lost. But every miracle came at a price. Starlet had never been the same since that day, and Lucius wondered if he too, would be...changed as she was if he allowed her to work her restorative powers on him.

No...there was too much at stake to succumb to petty vanity now. Soon, all his plans would come together. Soon, humanity would take its stand against these monstrous beings that had invaded their world. Narsille was lost, and Lucius suspected there was a very good chance Jidorik would be lost too before all was over, but that was the price he was willing to pay. The people of Narsille had been weak-willed drones, and when the time came to prove their worth to the gods, they had failed. As Lucius thought about what he had seen of Jidorik in his time here, how they had quivered in fear of Bahamut, just as complacent and feeble as the apathetic Narsillians, he was convinced they would be trampled under wills greater than theirs in the end, too.

The wills of the gods were strong, and the wills of humans weak...but somewhere, somehow, Lucius would prove them all wrong. He would continue to survive and someday his guiding hand would topple the Espers and their Masters. He just needed to bide his time, and watch, and wait, giving nudges here and there to move the sluggish mankind along. Individually, humans were hopelessly weak and petty, constantly letting their myriad wills push and pull in a thousand different directions to no net result. But if a single will that was strong enough could bring them all together at a pivotal moment...perhaps a true miracle could happen, one that had nothing to do with the so-called gods above.

Yes, Lucius Atma would wait for that moment. And then, the gods would tremble.


	93. Dragon and Star, 'Will of the Gods'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.5 - Will of the Gods**

The little bird had reached the Medina River, and was eager, practically compelled, to drink once more from its strangely invigorating water. As it circled downwards towards the river, though, a large shadow loomed over it. Thinking it was a hawk or some other bird of prey, it darted straight down, to the cover of the trees. But this was no hawk, and there was nowhere the bird could hide.

The shadow grew and grew, far beyond the usual pattern of a predator. As the bird reached the trees lining the river, it slowed its descent and tried to find a safe spot to rest. The shadow never ceased its speed, and crashed through the forest at full speed. Nothing was spared, and the little bird was flung to the ground with chunks of trees and earth. As the broken bird lifted its head from the dirt, it saw nothing. Just a black darkness devouring its world. In a moment, the bird was gone, and so was the great shadow that had fallen on the Medina Wood. The only evidence of the brief struggle was a crater surrounded by smashed trees.

The rich, energizing water of the Medina River continued its journey from mountain to sea, oblivious to the spectacle that had just occurred. Further north, past the Medina Wood, past the northern border of Jidorik, past the bounds of civilization, the Zozo mountain range loomed darkly, its skies filled with rolling thunderheads. Here, at the source of the Medina deep in the mountains, all kinds of barbarians, outcasts, and misfits eked out dangerous lives on the edge of the knife. It was a precarious existence, but these people had managed to survive for thousands of years here, unmolested by the events of the outside world.

Or so they had, until recently. With the coming of the mysterious storm several months ago, a new order had replaced the law of the wild that had reigned here for generations. Beneath the perpetual storm, a massive gathering was taking place in the Zozo mountains. Thousands upon thousands of savages were busily working for a common goal now, all running from one illuminated camp to another in the damp and dark. Odd tower-like constructions were rising into the sky where only huts had been before, all lit with the same otherworldly light that seemed to come from nowhere. Mighty engines of war lay rumbling between the towers, eagerly awaiting the day when they would roll south. Everywhere was rabid activity and an ordered chaos, all moving in time to an unseen conductor. And covering it all was the golden web of sourceless light.

At the center of this blossoming conglomeration of metal and light was a throne like nothing the mortal world had ever seen before. It was a throne only glimpsed in the primordial dreams of mankind, a throne of divine inspiration and obscene proportions. Where the Medina began its lengthy course at the heart of the mountains, there stood a perfectly pyramidal mountain of pure gold hundreds of feet high, outshining all the surrounding lights with its opulence. Scattered around its wide base were countless savage folk, all bent down to the ground in worshipful adulation.

The top of the golden pyramid was flattened and vast, capable of holding over a thousand of the savage folk praying at its base. Steps carpeted with red velvet rose up on all four sides of the golden throne, leading to four skull-lined paths that crossed the plateau-like upper level. Each path met at the very center of the pyramid's peak, where an unusual seat of power rested. The base of the actual throne was an earthen mound carved in the shape of a giant female head, peering out over the pyramid like a small island. Only the woman's face from the nose up could be seen, with glittering eyes of diamond surveying the world silently. The hair was softly glowing goldenrod, alive and growing out of the mound itself in tall, smooth waves. Two twisting horns of stone jutted out of the goldenrod hair on either side, giving the beautiful woman a distinctly devilish appearance.

Atop this demonic mount was the immaculate form of a nude woman so real that only an intimately close inspection could reveal that it was only a statue. Behind the stone woman was a giant golden disc shaped like the rising sun, fat and golden. This golden disc was the true center of the web of phantom light that had ensnared the Zozo mountains, and all the surrounding illumination found its source at this one central point. With each pulse of light from the false sun, the contingent of constantly praying savages nearby moaned in ecstasy, and the statue heaved and vibrated in response. The worshippers gave their life energy to the statue, and the statue in turn gave them the light of heaven.

This holy icon was the center of the universe for the filthy creatures that had lived here in darkness for so long. Now, they stood in awe and reverence to the divine being who had returned to them after an almost unbearably long absence. This was their Goddess, the divine Astarte. Passed down from generation to generation in these forbidding mountains was the legend of the exiled goddess. Once, long ago, this goddess had given her light to these people in a faraway land until she was exiled by the other gods, jealous of her beauty and power. She had sworn she would return one day, and her people, now exiles themselves on a strange continent, had waited patiently for the promised day.

Now, after untold centuries and countless miles, the lost tribe of Astarte had found their Goddess once again. She had arrived on the back of a mighty serpent riding a thunderstorm, and now promised riches beyond measure to all who would follow her as they had in ancient times. Among those who heard the whispers of the Goddess in their dreams was the young prince in exile, Chad Ralse.

Prince Ralse had thought little of the superstitions of Zozo when he had been forced to flee into the mountains, but as the vivid dreams slowly took their hold on his mind, he became acutely aware of the potential that now stood before him, in the form of a glowing statue of a lost goddess. The Goddess had promised him power and wealth beyond anything he had dared to reach for before, and had even shown him how these riches could be obtained. Soon, Ralse would be the mightiest king to ever rule, and all he needed to do was follow his dreams.

"My Goddess, hear my call." Ralse spoke from the foot of the female head that held up the statue of the Goddess. Around him was a circle of bowing savages, all moaning in unison. Piled at the base of the female head were various bones and skulls, all picked clean. And all human.

On cue, a terrifying array of lightning split the skies, and the clouds swirled and parted. Hovering directly above the statue, high in the darkening skies, was an old man with a flowing beard and burning eyes. In his hand he held a giant staff, alight with static energy. His blue robes fluttered in the violent air of the storm that he was generating. Rain fell around him, and electricity arced above him, but he remained untouched.

"The Goddess hears her servant, and sends her messenger," the old man spoke in a booming voice as he descended to the mortal plane. He stopped just above the statue, and glared at Ralse for several seconds before speaking again. "Have you brought a sacrifice?"

Ralse stepped to one side and revealed a young woman, no older than twenty. She was shivering and wretchedly dressed, but otherwise healthy. The woman looked up into the eyes of the old man, and remained frozen in place. Whether she was scared, hypnotized, or as willfully reverent as the other savages was impossible to tell. Whatever free will she once possessed had been stripped from her upon entering the domain of the Goddess. Now she was only a piece of flesh to be offered to Astarte, like so many before her.

"This woman is my gift to you, my Goddess," said Ralse. "I offer her in the hopes that the day of your resurrection will come soon."

The old man studied the woman for a moment, then nodded. "She is acceptable. Present her, and begone."

Ralse bowed and waved to the savages around him. Instantly four strong hands gripped the poor woman and dragged her up to the pile of bones at the foot of the mount. Ralse and the savages then backed away from the throne and left the woman alone with their Goddess.

The woman said nothing, and did not move from where she was placed. The old man pointed his glittering staff down at her, and for a moment a look of pain spread across his wizened face. The staff shook in his hands, and the woman's eyes shifted slightly at the uncertain gesture.

The statue seemed to pulse outward with a new surge of energy, and both the old man and the woman regained their proper aspects.

"Thus is the will of the gods," the old man said, all momentary emotion wiped from his face. The staff did not waver this time, and neither did the woman.

In a flash the brief ritual was over, and the woman was gone, forever one with her Goddess. The old man stood alone with the appeased statue.

"Thus is the will of the gods," he repeated sadly and quietly, rising back into the clouds to continue his never-ending task of maintaining the storm that circled the heart of the Zozo mountain range day and night.

As Ralse descended the grand staircase of the golden pyramid, not once looking back, he was silently joined by the specter of the Esper, Phantom. "What is the progress with the shipwright?" the ghostly figure asked in his raspy voice.

"Cait Sith has been watching him," Ralse replied calmly to the ghost, unfazed by his sudden appearance at his side. "She says he is coming along. But time is short, and he is stubborn. We may need to force him to drink if he does not make his decision soon. The Dragon has been seen dangerously close to the Medina recently, and my fool of a father has made no plans for the coming war. I think it is time..."

"No," Phantom said quickly. "Not yet. The West must make the first move, or the people of the East will not follow you. The Goddess is confident that Doom is on the verge of expanding into the East any day now, and our reports of his Herald near the Medina confirm this. He has run out of proper sacrifices in the West, and will make his move soon. We must have Giorgio Gabbianni before then. We must be ready to take the reigns of power in the East, and counterattack the West when the battle begins."

"What do you advise, then?"

"Giorgio must drink."

The two had reached the bottom of the pyramid, where the waters of the Medina were swirling and flowing south. "I understand." Ralse said, taking a drink from the river himself. He instantly felt his resolve tighten, and his entire body felt like it had been energized by an electric current. "The will of the Goddess must be obeyed," he said.

'The will of the Goddess must be obeyed." Phantom repeated, and vanished.

Far to the south and west of the magical waters of the Medina, another statue, much more gruesome in appearance than the beautiful Goddess, pulsed in anger. This statue was in the form of a giant four-armed demon with outspread wings and a half-decayed face, rising out of the ground in a twisted nightmare of inhuman skeletal remains fused together. The statue was so life-like that it was impossible to tell whether the bones that made up its base were real or simply an elaborate carving into the rock.

Unlike the statue of the Goddess, this statue was hidden from the outside world in the deepest, coldest crypts of Glastok Castle, far below even the crowded dungeons that fed the statue's insatiable appetite. Only one being was permitted to descend into this stinking hall of death, and he now stood before his master, quivering with barely contained anger in time with the statue. In his clawed hand he gripped a tattered letter, stained with blood.

_Bring the traitor to me, Bahamut!_ The voice of Doom boomed inside the dragon king's crimson-tinged mind like a cannon.

"At once, Master," the dragon growled with half-feral intensity. Both the fading human aspect and the overwhelming dragon aspect of the mighty Bahamut roared their rage at the recent discovery. The letter had bitten deep into the Dragon of the West's pride, and his wrath would be swift and merciless.

_These humans must learn their place in the coming new world. They exist only to serve the will of the gods. They are flesh for my body, and nothing more. This Lucius thinks he can plot behind my back, but he sorely underestimates the influence of Chemosh! Soon he will know my power first-hand, when his body becomes one with mine. Let us see this power of humanity he speaks of then!_

Bahamut nodded in agreement, the betrayal of the man he had trusted more than any other stinging him to his very core. He had allowed this man into his life, allowed him to care for his wife, to deliver his children! The doctor had played him for a fool, had thought he could manipulate forces he couldn't even begin to fathom. Such arrogance must be punished, and punished swiftly.

_Prepare our forces for the expansion into the East, as well. This region no longer contains enough suitable flesh for my body, and I can feel my other two banished brethren growing in power each day. Gather the Espers and prepare for war. _

"Your will is mine, Master," Bahamut said.

_And bring Lucius to me tonight. Once he is one with me, I will know just how far his treachery goes._

"Yes...," Bahamut growled, barely containing his rage.

Bahamut swept around and marched his way out of the freezing crypt, back into the lower dungeons of Glastok Castle. Standing guard at the crypt's entrance was the giant ape-like Esper, Hrimthurs. Bahamut looked at the white-furred beastman, and wondered how much he remembered of his human life. Did this dim-witted Esper remember his days, beating the prisoners into submission here? Did he remember when Bahamut, as the human Draco, out-maneuvered the brute and locked him in a cell himself? Were there plans for betrayal forming inside that thick skull even now?

"Hrimthurs, have you seen Lucius recently?" Bahamut asked.

"No, my Lord. I haven't seen him since he left for the Maiden with the Lady Starlet." Hrimthurs responded in his slow voice.

_No, Lucius may have betrayed me, but this one never will. Whether or not he remembers how I humiliated him and killed his partner, now he is a slave to my Master. He has no more free will than I..._

"Find him, and bring him here. Throw him in the crypt and lock the door behind him. Do not hesitate to use force if you must, but do not kill him. Understand?"

"I understand, and obey, my Lord," Hrimthurs said.

"How is the Lady Starlet?" Bahamut asked, worried about the time she had spent with the traitor alone.

"She seems depressed ever since her return, and barely leaves her room. She is there now."

"I am going to see her, and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstance."

Hrimthurs stood looking dumbly at his Lord for a moment.

"You have your orders, now leave me and find Lucius!" Bahamut bellowed, stalking out of the oppressively small space of the dungeons.

Hrimthurs jumped, then bowed mutely and lumbered off into the darkness to fulfill his mission.

Satisfied, Bahamut left his Esper servant to his task, and went to find Starlet. The rage of betrayal threatened to consume him, to turn him further away from his fading humanity. He needed to bask in the warm, healing glow of his wife, and forget the horrible crimes he had committed against his own conscience in these recent days. She may not be Maria anymore, but he was not Draco, either. Maria would never have been able to calm the wild anger of the Dragon the way Starlet could. As Espers, they were made for each other, just as they had seemingly been made for each other as humans. The god that had created their new life as Espers may be different from the one that had given them life as humans, but their love was the same, and nothing could break that eternal bond.

_Tonight I will sleep beside my wife, and we will be one, as we once were. We are no longer humans, but something remains of our human hearts...and desires._

_Be careful, my Herald..._ Doom's voice echoed through his servant's thoughts. _You are no longer humans, and you cannot indulge in human pleasures so easily now. The results may be...unpredictable, even to myself. I will not forbid such things, but I will not be responsible for their consequences, understand?_

"I hear and obey, Master," Bahamut said, only half-listening to Doom's intrusion. As he approached Starlet's private chambers, a very human longing was growing within him, and, at least for tonight, the will of the gods meant nothing to him. Lucius's betrayal had affected him profoundly, and he needed something that his Master could not give him. Something human.

_Bahamut...I hear your voice in my mind_. Starlet's voice rose inside Bahamut's mind. When the two were close, they could hear each other's thoughts, and she knew why he had come to her tonight. _Come to me, and we will soothe the anguish that is in both our souls tonight._

"I am coming, my love."


	94. Dragon and Star, 'The Hammer Falls'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.6 - The Hammer Falls**

Lucius felt the cold breath on his neck moments before he felt the steel grip on his shoulder. He had watched that massive hand of the condemner grip hundreds of shoulders just like this. He knew what it meant. And now it was his turn.

"The King has summoned you, Doctor," Hrimthurs said.

The hand gripped his shoulder tighter, and forced the crippled man to turn towards the entrance to the dungeons.

"I have been summoned to the dungeons?" Lucius replied without emotion.

Hrimthurs remained silent, but Lucius saw out of the corner of his eye a lopsided grin full of thick, yellowing teeth.

_So this is it. No chance of escape from this beast, from this place. How was I betrayed? Was it Maria? ...no, impossible. But Starlet...? If I am truly to die here, I must know who killed me. My dream will not die with me, it is too far along for that, but my betrayer will. But Maria...are you truly gone?_

Lucius tried to find an answer to the whirling maelstrom in his thoughts., but there was none. The gods worked in mysterious ways, and it would seem that in this case, he would have to take his predicament on faith. He had made many friends and enemies during his stay here in Jidorik, but he had been careful, so careful, and done his best to prevent this very scenario he now found himself in from happening. Only one person knew who he really was, only one could have pierced his armor of subterfuge and espionage.

_Maria, Maria, Maria...only you..._

The gods, the Espers, the West, the East, the North, and even the South...he had contacts everywhere, plans upon plans, people and Espers alike doing his bidding without even realizing it. Only the gods were above him, but the Espers worked through the gods. Perhaps his Esper contacts had been using him even while he was using them? Did they really think so little of humans?

_I will show them my power, even as I die._

Lucius whistled a strange tune as he hobbled down into the dungeons, away from the light. It was musical, but without melody, like the chirping of crickets at night. Hrimthurs looked at his prisoner with a dull expression on his blue-skinned face.

"What are you doing?" Hrimthurs said.

Lucius stopped whistling, and smiled. As he did this, he revealed one of his scarred hands from his robe of rags, and shook it like a man flicking filth from his skin. All Hrimthurs saw was the nearly complete circular scar on the back of his exposed hand, its pale flesh shining like a crescent moon in the dimming light. Like a magician, Lucius hid his true intent from the giant ape. While his extended hand flourished, a small beetle-like creature dropped from the upper folds of his sleeve, flying quickly to its unknown destination unseen and unheard.

"Enough games," Hrimthurs said impatiently, shoving Lucius hard enough to send him reeling into the dank walls of the dungeon stairwell.

Inside, Lucius was fuming at the brutal Esper, whose coarse demeanor he had despised since their first meeting. But outside, he remained his usual husk, rising and continuing down, down, down into the darkness without a further word or whistle. The deed was done, and now he would see if this particular contact had been his betrayer.

_If it is humanity that sent me to the gallows, then I will know in a few minutes. Let us see if the Stradivari are as high-minded as they claim. I shall test their wills, their commitment to my dream. If silence is their answer, then I will know I stand alone, and will go to my grave with the peace of knowledge...knowledge that was not Maria who killed me, but my own people. If humanity deems me not worthy to be saved, then I will die knowing humanity itself does not deserve to be saved, either from the gods, or from themselves._

While Lucius awaited his answer, Hrimthurs continued to push him further down into the dungeons. They had long since left behind the regular cells, still marked with the talented architecture of the upper parts of Glastok Castle. Here, the floor was nothing but packed dirt and grime, the half-cobbled walls no more than simple rocks piled on top of each other with a child's skill. From everywhere chillingly fetid water oozed like blood, half frozen into a greenish-blue slush that seemed to glow in the almost complete darkness. And it was cold, far colder than it should have been, even this far under the earth.

Soon, the condemned man was deeper than he had ever been, deeper than he had suspected these halls could have possibly went. Here there was no light except for the strange green-blue slime that covered everything with its faint shimmer, blue and distant, but pulsing like the life force of some hidden giant. The further down the sloping tunnel he went, the more he felt like a tiny germ, crawling inside the veins of some vast creature. Just where was this loathsome Esper taking him?

An eternity later, Hrimthurs stopped, and pointed just ahead. Lucius could see nothing at first, the darkness was near-total, but gradually a thick, iron door coalesced out of the black earth, the blue slime flowing and pulsing all around it. Indeed, it was pulsing _out_ from the door like the rays of a web, as if all the intricate lines that had coated this subterranean world had been spun from whatever lurked beyond.

"What is this?" Lucius asked, a cold sense of doom stealing over his thoughts. "Just where are you taking me?"

"Keep walking," was Hrimthurs only response. He gave Lucius another shove. But Lucius was already moving towards the path's end, propelled by a force greater than the insignificant Esper behind him. It was the lure of the abyss...the force of madness.

_I can feel something behind that door...it feels so familiar... Yes! It feels just like the streets of Narsille on that day. It feels like death, but the death of the crypt, not the inferno. Haha, am I back? Will these walls fall away and will I find myself back on the flame-lined streets of that city? Was my escape all a dream? Ha, yes, a dream...a horrible, twisted nightmare that ends where it begins...like the scar on my hand, a circle of pain that never ends. Ha, ha, ha..._

"Heh," Lucius hiccupped, his normally collected step devolving into a drunken lurch. "Ha...Ha, ha, ha..."

Hrimthurs watched Lucius wander towards the end of the crypt, his presence completely forgotten. Just as the Esper was about to reach out and stop the stumbling man, the voice of his Master spoke up inside his mind, its power freezing him in place like a puppet whose strings have just been yanked taut by its unseen mover.

_Let him come. Stand watch, and do not let anyone disturb us._

"I hear, and obey, Master," Hrimthurs said, entranced.

"HAHAHAHAAA...," Lucius gurgled incoherently, his body in the icy crypt, but his mind back in fiery, doomed Narsille.

_Doomed...yes, I am walking to my doom. Doom, doom, doom! HAHAHA!_

All thoughts of escape were gone from Lucius's mind now. All that was left was the never-ending nightmare beyond the door. He knew what he would see when that gateway to another world opened. He could already feel the heat, taste the ash, see the blood...

And the smoke...everywhere that creeping death, trying to drag him down into Hell...

_I am coming home._

As Hrimthurs watched obediently, the great iron door swung backwards and vanished into the emptiness behind it. A moment later, the mad doctor vanished along with it, laughing all the way.

That was the last thing the Esper saw before he was struck hard from behind, his vision blurring with the force of the blow. The strike was massive, and sent Hrimthurs sprawling forwards on his hands and knees, blue blood trickling from the back of his head.

"Who...," he stammered, trying to turn and face his stealthy attacker.

The moment his head turned, his eyes were greeted with a blinding flash of liquid flames. It felt like a bomb had just exploded in his face, and he howled with pain and confusion in the darkness. The fearsome noise was silenced almost immediately by another terrific blow to the side of his head, this time knocking him out.

"Well thash wash easier thaneye shought it would be," a sharp, wheezy voice said with a slight slur. "But where ish Molitor? Hic!"

The owner of the voice was a wiry-framed old man with a tangle of dirty grey hair flipping about his bald head, and an even longer tangle sprouting from his chin and ending in a fork like the tongue of a snake. He wore a thick leather body suit died ruby red, the same color as his blood-shot eyes and flushed face. There was a snaggle-toothed grin on his face, and a dribble of dark fluid trickling from his mouth and staining his serpentine beard. He lurched to the side much like Lucius had a moment ago, and burped. The man looked, and in fact was, very drunk.

Next to the old drunkard was a giant of a man almost as large as Hrimthurs. His body was a balanced mixture of well-toned muscle and thick fat, and his emotionless face was covered by a thick black stubble. His head was completely bald. The man also wore thick leather padding, but carried the heavy burden with a grace unlike his hunched, arthritic friend. His expansive, hairy chest was exposed, but strewn across it diagonally like a sash was a belt of large stones each the size of a man's head and strung together with a thick rope. In his beefy hands he wielded a gigantic hammer as tall as himself and with a head of solid mythril, covered with intricate designs and words in an unknown language. The man looked as barbaric and savage as Hrimthurs at first, but he carried himself with a quiet humility that was in stark contrast to his crude companion.

While the drunkard cackled and stumbled blindly down the tunnel, the giant extended the blue head of his hammer, letting its soft natural glow light up the pit just enough to see.

"Shanks, Hammer, but I've got thish, heehee!" the drunk man stuttered, taking a large swig from a flask at his side. There were actually two flasks at his sides, strapped to his hips by a sturdy belt. One was made of gold, the other of silver, and both had flintlock caps. Like the giant's hammer, the flasks had intricate designs and words etched into them. Two names could be seen clearly written into each of the containers in Jidorik script - _Juliette_ on the gold flask and _Justine_ on the silver.

"Awright Justine, no time to be shy!" the old man said with a mouth full of alcohol. He held the silver flask just below his lips, as if to kiss the edges of the container's mouth. Instead, he spit out the alcohol in an amazing spray, while flicking the flintlock cap shut with a loud snap. A swath of burning liquid flame filled the frigid hallway with a firm, but steady light, then guttered out on cue. While he was breathing fire, the old man held a torch beneath the flames, and when the ball of fire was extinguished, the torch still glowed brightly.

The giant Hammer looked at his companion with a rueful gaze, but lowered his hammer and followed him down the strange hall and into the retreating darkness beyond.

"Shweet Justine wasn't made for places like thish," the old man said quietly, wiping his lips and surveying the otherworldly passage the flames of Justine had exposed.

"Perhapsh Juliette would have been a better choish," he said thoughtfully, his voice wavering, but not from drink. "Thish place smells of death, and oh how Juliette loves death! Heehee, hic!" The old man was practically crooning as he talked about his beloved ladies always at his side, but he was scared all the same, and talked mindlessly to keep from being infected with the insanity of the realm around him. "Gentle Justine always seems to finds her way into places like thish...but Juliette ish the strong one...yesshir! Hell itself is her fire! And thish ish hell awright! Eh, Hammer? Eh?" he continued rambling on, his voice getting higher as he approached the black void a few feet away.

Sensing his friend's troubled state, Hammer hefted his weapon onto his shoulder and put one great hand on the quivering man's shoulders. Saying nothing, he stepped ahead of the old man and fearlessly walked into the room at the end of the hall. Seeing his friend's resolve, the drunk man did his best to sober up, and marched in behind him, stifling a growing urge to break out in maniacal laughter.

The first thing the two men saw was the statue. They had had no idea what to expect going in and were prepared for the worst, but the towering statue of rock and bone, twice the height of Hammer and in the shape of some unholy devil, was still enough to make them stop and stare. Its four reaching arms were all bent downwards toward a rag-covered object standing as motionless as the statue, but only a third of its size.

A complicated array of pulsing blue energy spread out from the skeletal base of the statue, filling the room with dancing waves of death. It would have been beautiful if not for the grotesque source emanating that cold aura, and the foreboding sense of some great malevolent mind guiding it outwards into the surrounding dirt and stone. Standing firm against the tide of menace was the ragged statue of a man, as silent and unyielding as the devilish statue.

"Molitor!" the old man yelled out, recognizing the ragged robes of the man they had come to rescue on the human-sized statue. He could not tell if the man was still alive or not...but they had gotten his message, and would do whatever it took to fulfill their mission and rescue one of their own. Even if it meant descending into Hell and fighting the devil himself. It was the Stradivari way.

The man stood silently in front of the giant statue, his hooded head turned upwards at the grasping hands. Neither moved, but a battle seemed to be taking place, a battle of pure will between the ragged man and the mighty statue. The old man yelled his name again, but was unsure if he should try to disturb whatever was taking place between them. He was entirely too old for such acts of suicidal heroism, and continued to study the frozen scene in front of him to see what he should do.

Sensing the invisible struggle, Hammer walked calmly forward, reaching for his hammer as he strode up to the two combatants. There was no doubt in his mind as to what he should do. There never was. Hammer was as decisive as his companion was careful and measuring. Hammer was as solid and predictable as the rock, and the drunkard was the fluid stream of unpredictability that flowed around him. Their attitudes complimented each other perfectly, which was why they never were seen apart.

Without a second thought to the consequences, Hammer let his mighty mythril sledge fall on the statue. Blue and white sparks flew from the impact, and the entire crypt shook with palpable anger at the intrusion, but the statue did not falter, or even crack. The pulsing blue lightshow quickened to a maddening pace, and suddenly the man at the statue's base screamed in a cracked, inhuman voice.

The man cried out unintelligibly, straightening his body out like a man being stretched on a rack. It was impossible to tell who was winning the fight, but it seemed to be reaching its climax.

"Enough!" the old man yelled out, running up to the stunned Hammer. The shock of the blow had reverberated up his muscular arms like a thousand stinging needles and sent him stumbling backwards into the gloom. "Hammer, what the hell were you thinking?" he said in a perfectly clear voice, stricken sober with terror. "Grab Molitor and get the hell out of here while we still can!"

Hammer nodded dumbly, his head ringing like a struck bell. He tried to grab the agonized man, but he couldn't. The man was rooted in place as firmly as the giant statue. Hammer looked back at his companion with helpless eyes. The veins stood out on his bald head, and sweat poured down his brawny arms, but the slender man in rags would not budge.

"Aw, hell!" the old man shouted in despair, grabbing both his flasks like a pair of pistols. In one fluid motion he brought both Justine and Juliette to his lips, embraced them heartily, and spit a magnificent splash of rainbow-colored fire at the demon statue. The volcanic eruption of heat and flame was intense, and threatened to burn the old man's face just as surely as his immovable target, but such was always the risk with this particular technique.

Like when the statue had been struck by the mighty Hammer, the crypt shook with rage. This time, however, the shaking did not stop, and the cold blue lines of force wavered and began to drip and blur out of their predefined paths, like melting water. Afterwards, the old man would swear it was the wavering heated air playing tricks on his vision, but as he gazed through the twin flames of Justine and Juliette, he swore he saw the rotted half-face of the statue turn towards him in a hate-filled grimace. That death mask carved in stone would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

The two opposing elements clashed for a full minute, and in the end, fire won out over ice, and a loud crack resounded through the crypt. The ragged man fell backwards as if he had just been released by an invisible leash, and immediately began howling with an ugly laughter.

While the old man continued to breath his brilliant dragon's breath over the statue, a quick glance at Hammer told the giant all he needed to know. "Now!" the glance said with unmistakable urgency.

Hammer understood perfectly, and when he reached for the maniacally laughing man this time, his emaciated body was as light as a child. Hammer hefted the man over his shoulder with one arm while still holding his weapon in his other, then fled the apocalyptic lightshow inside the crypt with surprising speed.

Without looking at his retreating companion, the old man backed away from the increasingly blurry inferno he was creating as fast as he could, never letting the wild blast of multi-colored fire abate for a second. Everything seemed to be melting around him, even the earthen walls themselves. It was as if the entire crypt was made of ice, and was in danger of collapsing on top of him. As he backed out of the room, he could still see the face of the statue glaring at him through the haze of flame. The statue was still whole and unbroken, but whatever power it held in that place of death had been dispelled, at least for the brief moment he had filled it with the hated flames.

The two men did not stop even as they clambered over the hulking form of the unconscious Hrimthurs. The old man breathed fire as long as his seasoned lungs could hold out, keeping their egress both lighted and heated all the way down the outer hall. When his fire finally went out at the other end of the hallway, the old man had to stop and catch his breath. Hammer stopped as well, watching for any sign of a counterattack. The two both stood still for a brief respite, recovering from the scene they had just witnessed. On Hammer's shoulder, the ragged man was still laughing uncontrollably.

"Ach, what's hish problem?" the old man said between pants, squatting down and taking a satisfying draught from the golden Juliette. "Did 'at shing in there break Molitor's mind or summin?"

Hammer shrugged, as bewildered at the usually stoic Molitor's current condition as his friend. His only answer was to raise his hammer towards the exit.

"Yah, you're right. No time for pointless queshons. Lesh beat it!" the old man put Juliette at his side, and stood up, cracking his aching back.

The two resumed their frantic rush out of the dungeons and back to the world of the living. Above them, the castle was in an uproar. Apparently their antics below the castle had not gone as unnoticed as they had hoped. Shouts from both humans and Espers could be heard everywhere, and above it all the roaring wrath of the Dragon King.

"Heh, I doubt my bresh could shtand mush of a chance against that one's fire," the old man said, his old drunken glee returning despite the dire circumstances. "We gotta get out of here wishout being sheen by him, or we're done turkeys, hic!"

Without a further word between them, the two reached the entrance to the dungeons. There was a clot of human soldiers already rushing down the spiral staircase, but a single one-handed swing from Hammer sent the group tumbling backwards. Several other groups of humans tried to block their path, but against Hammer's strength and the old man's flames, they fell like tinder.

The two knew they were more than a match for any amateur human fighters, they were elite Stradivari, after all, but they knew an Esper would not go down so easily. They had the advantage of surprise against the ape Esper, but there would be no surprising any Espers in this state of high alert. And if one particular Esper showed his face, they would be doomed.

By the time they reached the castle halls proper, it was pure chaos. Every inch they took was a hard-fought battle against rapidly growing opposition. They had seen no Espers yet, but knew there must be a few lurking about, waiting to put a swift end to their escape.

The old man knew the layout of the castle well, having once been a soldier here, decades ago. Little had changed since his youth except its inhabitants, and he knew all the secret passages by heart, even ones that were no longer in use and sealed up. It was one such passage they had used to infiltrate the castle, and now it would be another they would use to make their timely escape.

"Hammer, here!" he yelled over the din of battle, pointing at an unassuming life-sized portrait of a former king.

A single powerful hammer blow later, there was a gaping hole where the portrait used to be, leading down into a dark passageway forgotten by the castle's current generation long ago. Another hammer blow sent the freshly opened hole tumbling back down, sealing the passage against any would-be followers.

It only took a few frantic minutes of groping through dank, cobweb infested hallways to reach the outer wall of the castle. The old man's memory had remained true, even through his drunken haze, and they were safely outside Glastok Castle. Both men breathed in the clean air and let the daylight wash over them, cleansing them of the putrid world they had climbed out of. They both smiled, knowing they were past the most dangerous part of their mission.

"Sho far, sho good!" the old man wheezed, taking a moment for a well-deserved drink.

Hammer pointed towards the Glastok wood impatiently, motioning to keep moving.

"Yah, yah...coming master, hic!"

Just as the two were slipping under the protective foliage of the woods, they saw a massive shadow spread out across the fields around the castle. There was no mistaking that silhouette, or the rain of blue fire that scorched everything around it. The Dragon King had joined the search.

"Damn, can't even catch a breath," the old man said sadly as he returned Juliette to her place at his hip.

Seconds later the forest erupted in a blaze of explosive magical heat, and the spot where the men had stopped was burned to a black, smoldering hole. But the two mercenaries were already safely hidden from view, and well on their way to the borderlands between West and East. All Stradivari were masters of stealth, and despite their appearance, the giant and the drunk were no exceptions.

In the coming days, almost the entirety of Glastok Wood was to be razed to its roots by the wrath of Bahamut, but no trace of the two unknown intruders or the traitor Lucius would be found. More than a few unfortunate human soldiers were fed to the statue of Doom as punishment for their failure, and the remaining soldiers were dismissed from the castle, to be used as fodder on the front lines of the coming war.

Bahamut saw that he had no use for humans now, and was convinced that none of them could be trusted after Lucius's actions. The Jidorik he was building would be one of Espers only, forever. His Master, as enraged at Lucius's escape as his Herald, agreed, and soon a new dark age of subjugation was to fall over West Jidorik. All humans would now be expected to either fight to the death on the frontlines, or give themselves to Chemosh as sacrifices. The blessed few that were deemed worthy would become Espers.

Even Bahamut's trusted human advisor Farin was ushered out of the castle without ceremony, despite decades of loyal service to the Dragon Throne, regardless of who or what sat on it. Along with Farin, the twins Aquilas and Leonora were banished as well, although this was done without their father's knowledge. In an increasingly rare act of maternal instinct, the Lady Starlet feared that her children would not be immune to their father's hatred of all things human for much longer, and spirited them away in Farin's arms one cold night. It had not hurt her as much as she thought it would, and that lack of pain was a clear signal to the conflicted Esper queen that her human half was losing ground to the unflinching persona of Starlet.

As Starlet looked out of her window at the great blasted expanse that once had been Glastok Wood, she wondered how much longer it would be until she was a mindless pawn of her Master. Maria still surfaced once in a while, and Starlet still felt a sharp pang of loss in her stomach, where there would always be a bright red piece of humanity and her children burning fiercely against her cold Esper flesh. But with the good Doctor Atma now gone from her life, Maria had seemingly given up her tenacious hold on her humanity, and was fading fast into oblivion. He had been her only real connection with her former human life, and without his tireless efforts to keep the woman Maria alive inside of Starlet, she had lost much of her will to live.

Besides, she had a new charge to look after in this crazy, new world of magic. Another child had been born to her and her husband, one that he had taken an instant liking to. Yes, this would be the true heir to Bahamut, the King of Dragons. After one magical night filled with a very human passion that she had thought she would never experience again, a miraculous new life had been created before their very eyes. The tiny being had appeared between them, fully formed, fusing their essences in a single instant of magical creation.

A similar process had occurred between Starlet and Bahamut months ago to create the living statue that would become the bodily reincarnation of their Master, Chemosh. But that had been a loveless thing, purely mechanical and ritual. An empty vessel, capable of holding the essence of their Master was all that had been created in that cold union.

This time, the shared human love and wills of the male and female Espers had combined with their magical energy in a new way, and created something wholly unexpected. Coiled in her lap as she watched the smoke of coming battle rise outside her room, was a small dragonlet, no bigger than a garden variety lizard. But it was complete otherwise, and only needed time and energy to grow to its true size and majesty. She had no idea if it was an Esper like herself, or something else...but it was alive, and it was her offspring, and both her human and Esper sides cried for its bleak future.

"My little Kaiser, what kind of world have I created for you?"


	95. Dragon and Star, 'Red In Tooth and Claw'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.7 - Red In Tooth and Claw**

"Back wish ush now?"

When the haze of madness cleared, Lucius found himself staring into the bloodshot eyes of Dragonetti, the famous fire breathing Stradivari of West Jidorik. Next to him towered the mute Hammer, Dragonetti's faithful companion and fellow Stradivari. Both men were looking at him with concern, and even a little fear. Whatever happened after he sent his message must have been unusual indeed for these two mercenaries to look so shaken. But it appeared his call had been answered, and they had rescued him, so they weren't his betrayers after all.

"Drunk as usual, Dragonetti?" Lucius said weakly, trying to put his usual face back on.

"No other way t'be," Dragonetti said. "What about you, Molitor? You were acting pretty down'n the cups yourself for a while there. Laughin' your arse off for three days straight, you were. Scared poor Justine practically dry."

"I...don't remember," Lucius said slowly, carefully. But he did remember some things. Things that changed everything.

Dragonetti studied Lucius for another moment, then straightened up and backed away with a slight lurch. "Yep, you know shomeshing. Can't fool ush, Molitor, you know that."

Hammer tapped his wizened friend on the shoulder, his eyes looking off in the distance.

Dragonetti nodded, looking in the same direction as Hammer. "No matter, Marylebone'll make you sing like one of hish girls soon enough. C'mon, we need to keep moving. Lot's o' monsters about these days." Dragonetti looked over his shoulder quickly. "Plush, the Red Fangs are still on our tails."

For the first time, Lucius noticed that there was blood splattered on Dragonetti's already crimson-dyed leather clothing. Hammer, too, had blood stains on his thick padding, and his beloved sledgehammer of mythril, Claire, was also covered in blood and some thick, green substance.

"Where are we, and where do you plan on taking me?" Lucius asked warily. Despite being a member of the Stradivari himself, he knew they did not trust him quite yet. He was too new, too quiet, and had his fair share of secrets he refused to talk about with them. But they knew he had valuable information about the strange new players appearing on the world stage, and more importantly, he fit the requirements for membership. Yes, he was a Stradivari in spirit, that much they knew for sure, and thus, Molitor was born.

Lucius looked around him, trying to place his surroundings. He had no idea where they were, but it looked like they were resting in a clearing on the eastern outskirts of Glastok Wood. Smoke was rising over the trees behind them, and on cue the howling of a pack of hounds rippled across the open space. Lucius suddenly felt very exposed.

Dragonetti glared at Lucius while taking a quick gulp from one of his flasks. "Hear it, doncha? Your lovely king hash sent the wolves after us, an' they're mad as hornets. We've killed a dozen o' them, but he keeps sending 'em, an' they're getting madder eash time. I expect this pack has an alpha in it, and we're vulnerable here, in case you haven't noticed. We'll talk once we reach the Medina. C'mon!"

Dragonetti quickly turned away from Lucius and stomped off into the trees in the opposite direction from the wolves and smoke. He was amazingly agile for an old drunk, and was gone before Lucius even got to his feet. Hammer waited until Lucius was on his way before joining them, backing away into the forest with his Claire readied in both hands.

"Hyah!" Dragonetti cried out from the foliage after a few minutes.

Lucius stopped abruptly, trying to see what was going on. A huge fireball erupted from several yards in front, and then something squat and bulbous flopped out of the dense underbrush. It was charred and squirming with the last spastic energy of death, but Lucius recognized it immediately. It was one of the weird creatures that had started appearing in Jidorik ever since the Dragon King returned.

This particular oddity was simply called a crawler by the locals. Slimy, green and the size of a large, fat snake, they were bloated caterpillar-like abominations that usually attacked in groups from underground. It was impossible to track them down, since they somehow managed to leave no trace of where they had been or where they came from. One moment a person was walking in a field, the next, they were surrounded by a sudden explosion of venomous feelers, needle-like teeth, and thousands of stubby, scaly, feet. Everywhere these reptilian worms went, they devoured and destroyed whatever was in their way with their acidic slime. When they were gone, so too was whatever had been unlucky enough to encounter them.

A sickening splat from behind signaled that a second crawler had been dispatched by the steady arm of Hammer. As Lucius whirled around in anticipation of further ambushes, he saw Hammer's massive Claire dripping with green slime, and an unidentifiable pile of entrails and flesh bubbling where the creature had been. Its acidic green blood fizzed and burned, eating its way straight through the ground. The resilient mythril head of Claire seemed unfazed by the poisonous ooze, however.

"Keep back, Molitor!" Dragonetti's voice echoed from in front.

Lucius had time to see a wave of grubby appendages rise up in front of him before he was whisked into the air and out of the worm's reach by Hammer. Another swing from Claire and the third crawler exploded in a shower of deadly green pieces. A few shreds touched his ragged robe and instantly dissolved the threads away.

"What a joke! A Stradivari that can't fight!" Dragonetti's voice sounded again from in front. Another flash of flame sent two more blackened shapes rolling out of the brush, then all was quiet except for the wolves again.

A moment later, Dragonetti himself reappeared, unscathed, but angry. "What was Marylebone thinking letting you join ush?"

"My weapons are not as brutal as yours, but they are deadly all the same," Lucius replied,a hint of irritation in his voice. "I wait patiently and strike from afar with well-placed plans. Knowledge is power, my friend."

Dragonetti snorted, letting off a short flicker of fire with his alcohol-infused breath. "A Stradivari ish lethal in any situation. If ya can't keep yourself alive, then ya don't deserve the name."

"I sent for you didn't I? And here I am, alive and well, thanks to my plans." Lucius stared down the drunk with his level gaze. "How much of a fight could you put up without your precious ladies, I wonder?"

"Grr...you can inshult me all you like, but don't bring Justine and Juliette into thish. I wash a soldier long before you were even born, whelp!" Dragonetti placed his gold and silver flasks back into their holsters at his side and put his wrinkled hands up in fists, ready to fight. "C'mon, then! Let's see which one o' ush ugly dogs ish the meanest!"

Lucius had no intention of fighting the old drunk, and made no effort to prepare himself against Dragonetti's advances. He simply stood still and watched the man stagger towards him, balled fists waving in an unpredictable, but undoubtedly practiced motion. The old man had seen the inside of many bars, and surely participated in just as many brawls.

The patient Lucius would not be goaded, though. He had faced far greater opponents than this fool and survived. There was no fear, nor any discernable emotion in his flinty eyes as he stared his opponent down. Dragonetti stumbled and slowed in hesitation, then licked his thin lips and smiled.

"Oho! Something up your sleeve, Molitor? Lesh just see, eh?" Dragonetti stumbled another step forward, close enough for Lucius to smell his sickly-sweet breath.

As Dragonetti advanced, a giant red-backed form leaped out from behind Hammer and hovered in the air between the two brawlers for a split second. Dragonetti leaped back with amazing speed, but Lucius remained motionless. Hammer already had Claire out and ready, and before the thing could even reach the ground he batted the giant furry mass against a nearby tree with the same speed as the leaping Dragonetti. There was a yelp of surprised pain, then the creature slumped down against the tree's trunk. It was a Red Fang.

"Dammit! They're here!" Dragonetti cursed, spitting a smoking wad of phlegm on the ground as he prepared his throat for another round. "I wouldn't mind seeing some o' these plans of yoursh in action, Molitor!"

"Get to the Medina, and we'll be safe. They won't cross the river." Lucius calmly replied, finally moving.

"Wha? They can shwim just ash well as us, better even! And my flames won't work too well over water, you know!"

"Just make for the river." Lucius had already passed the irritated Dragonetti, and was moving as fast as his crippled body could carry him.

Dragonetti spat again, unlatching Juliette once more. "Hammer, make sure Molitor makes it to the river. I'll keep these scurvy mutts busy!"

Hammer nodded grimly, and ran quickly past his partner. In a few seconds he had caught up with Lucius, snatched him up in one thick arm and continued onward to the edge of the woods.

"Here doggy!" Dragonetti crooned in his cracked voice. "Come and get your dinner, heh!"

Two Red Fangs jumped out of the forest, followed by what could only be the leader of the current pack. It was more than twice as big as the other two, and had a starving, half-mad look in its burning, deeply set eyes. The huge, muscular back was lined with streaks of grey fur in between the matted red fur that so distinguished the Red Fangs. Old scars and bite wounds covered its body, and there were several teeth missing from its gigantic maw. Thick envenomed drool poured from its mouth, and wisps of steam rose from its violently shaking frame. Dragonetti had seen plenty of Red Fangs before in his tenure at Glastok Castle, had even trained them when he was younger, but there was only one like this. This was the alpha male of the alpha males, known as the Red Baron, finally sent in to finish the job its pathetic offspring couldn't handle. The situation must truly be desperate for the Dragon King to send the most prized stud of the kennel out.

"Hallo, Baron, remember me?" Dragonetti said, holding out Justine and Juliette at his sides, ready to strike, but with a fatherly look in his ravaged face. There was only one Red Baron, and Dragonetti knew him at once. This wolf had been the strongest of the Red Fangs, even back in the days when Dragonetti was their trainer. The wolf had aged just as wretchedly as his old trainer over the past thirty years, but was still just as dangerous as well.

The creature growled slowly, carefully sizing up the prey that had been so much trouble for the others. Its head ticked to the side in a convulsive motion, and it snapped at one of the smaller wolves at its side without provocation. Both Red Fangs on either side lowered their ears and stepped back, cowed by their massive leader.

If Baron recognized his former owner, he did not show it. The only thing on the monstrosity's face was a malevolent glare, twitching with barely contained madness. The old wolf was practically insane in its extreme age, which made it all the more unpredictable and deadly.

The old man knew that look well. It was the look of a dog gone bad, its mind snapped and all training forgotten. There was no way to control them when they turned, and he had put many of the beasts down at the first sign of this madness. It was a natural side effect of the intense breeding program that produced the super-predators, but Dragonetti was still sad all the same to see its effects in the abyssal eyes of his old companion.

"Time to put you down, friend." Dragonetti said heavily. He stepped closer to the wolves, and a shudder of uncontrollable rage rippled through Baron.

The beast launched itself forward with a cloud of dust and spittle, its wide jaws aimed directly at its former master. Dragonetti let loose a quick but intense fireball from Justine while rolling to the side. Baron caught only a mouthful of flames as he landed where Dragonetti had been. If the mad hound felt the pain of the fire, he did not show it.

With another powerful leap Baron tried to crush the old man, but once again he spun out of the way in an ungraceful, but effective lurch. This time the fiery counter hit the wolf square in its chest, scorching the hair there black. But still, it showed no signs of feeling pain.

Back and forth the two danced, Dragonetti's breath gradually lighting up the surrounding greenery until the clearing was walled in by a raging forest fire. The two other Red Fangs slowly circled the combatants inside the ring of fire, eagerly waiting for the kill. For the moment, though, the two were evenly matched.

"Hellfire, you're ash thick-skinned as ever!" Dragonetti panted, running out of breath. "Gonna hafta do this the old-fashin'd way."

Instead of dodging Baron this time, Dragonetti stood his ground. Just as the wolf's shadow covered him, he flicked a tiny lever inside Juliette's flintlock cap and swung the flask at the belly of the monster like a metal knuckle. A short dagger shot out of the bottom of the flask, while at the same moment an aura of flames encircled Dragonetti's hand. He had doused his own arm in Juliette's flammable contents, and turned his hand into a burning fist.

With the strength of a much younger man, Dragonetti's fiery knuckles slammed into Baron's descending chest, erupting in a burst of orange light as he connected. The monster still showed no signs of pain, but there was no ignoring the sound of cracking ribs and the smell of burning flesh. Dragonetti used the force of the impact to bounce himself away from the oncoming Baron, and watched as the beast landed shakily on its feet, then lost its balance and fell to one side. The look of madness never left its face.

"Dammit, Baron, stay down!" Dragonetti shook his arm to get rid of the stinging pain of the impact. Drops of blood flew off his arm, some Baron's, some his own.

But Baron would not, perhaps could not, stay down. Despite its injuries, it struggled to its feet and charged Dragonetti. The old soldier was ready, and side-stepped the charge while delivering another devastating blow to the side of the wolf's face as it passed. There was no pain in Baron's half crumpled face as it slowed down, but there was a deep grimace on Dragonetti's. He had broken his hand with that last blow.

"Hellfire," Dragonetti muttered again, dousing his other hand in Juliette's deadly contents. There was a visible dent in the golden sides of Juliette, and the hidden switchblade was broken, but still deadly sharp. "Ach, it breaks my heart to see my lady like this," he said sadly, preparing his tired body for another assault.

Baron meanwhile was moving visibly slower after the second blow. One swollen eye was shut tight and bleeding, and several more teeth were missing from the right side of his still-grinning mouth. The convulsive ticks were more pronounced now, and there was even less sign of coherent thought in the creature's insane features.

"Grah, what has that monstrous Esper done to ya, Baron?" Dragonetti said, studying his old friend. "You're as mad as he is now."

The dog answered with another mindless attack, and received another blow, this time straight against his thick skull. There was a sick crunch, and Dragonetti knew he had landed a fatal blow straight to its brain this time. His heart sank in his wiry chest as he watched the convulsing beast twist and snap at invisible enemies only it could see. Its mind was completely gone, and rather than land the killing blow, Dragonetti merely watched as the pathetic creature stumbled drunkenly back and forth.

But Baron still did not stop its assault. It tried to mount another attack, but could not figure out where it was, or what it was fighting anymore. It staggered near one of the impatient Red Fangs waiting on the side, and unexpectedly lunged at the poor beast, ripping a huge chunk of meat from its side. The dog howled in agony, and then slumped down in a bloody heap. Baron swallowed the meat whole, then gave a half bark that abruptly stopped in a gurgling groan before turning into a disturbing yipping sound like laughter.

The other Red Fang saw the way the battle was turning, and tried to go up against Dragonetti himself. The old man was worn out, but not so much that he couldn't give the foolish pup a sure sign where it belonged. A quick, steady river of flames from Justine sent the terrified dog running and yelping back into the woods. A new sound, rising out of the burning forest like an avalanche, told Dragonetti that the time for escape was at hand.

One last look at the stumbling, stuttering Baron, now on flames but making no attempt to save its own fading life, was all the disgusted Dragonetti could afford as he vanished into the glowing wall of fire around him to join his comrades at the Medina. It was a sad end to a magnificent creature, much like the state of all West Jidorik these days. The Dragon King's madness was spreading to every inch of his kingdom, and there was nothing to do but flee before his unstoppable rampage.

"Damnation, what a mesh..." Dragonetti muttered, and was gone.

The Red Baron was dead by the time a great darkness flew over the clearing and landed, putting out the blaze with a powerful burst of cold wind from wings as black as night. A mutilated form dropped from clawed hands onto the scorched earth next to the burned and beaten Baron. It was the routed Red Fang, now dead as well and barely distinguishable as an animal after returning to its master empty-handed. Bahamut surveyed the disastrous scene, and roared with the same uncontrolled malice as his half-mad canine hunter. In an instant he was up in the air above the forest, blasting the last vestige of Glastok Wood to ashes with his blue fire while he looked in vain for the contemptible humans that had frustrated him at every turn.

There was only one place they could be headed, but it was the one place Bahamut was not permitted to go. The Medina River was the barrier between the dominion of Chemosh and the dominion of Astarte, and warded off all unwelcome magical beings from entering East Jidorik, or ascending into the Zozo mountains to the north. With a frustrated growl, Bahamut turned and flew back to the castle.

Soon, though, that barrier would no longer matter. His army of human slaves would march across the enchanted waters unimpeded. They would drain the river, sack the cities of the East, and force the Goddess to show herself. Then her Herald would come, and the true battle would begin. Yes, Bahamut was ready for that day. With Scion in hand, he would strike Leviathan down, smash the Goddess statue, and claim all of the Jidorik region for his own.

As Bahamut wheeled through the air above the castle, he could feel the freezing winds of Cocytus whispering through his mind, promising a world of absolute order, frozen in ice.

Forever.


	96. Dragon and Star, 'Choir Medina'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2 - The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star**

* * *

**Part 10.8 - Choir Medina**

Everything was quiet, surreal. The three men stood and stared at the water's edge, each contemplating the current situation, each coming to a different conclusion. The Medina had for ages been the dividing line between nations, peoples, places. And now, here, at the shores of its startlingly clear stream, three different minds met, and diverged.

"We need to go north, to Zozo."

"Pah! We're goin' south, to Marylebone!"

"..."

The last comment was not spoken, but its gestured intent was as clear as the river: _"We go east."_

The three men all stood at the crossroads of east, west, north, and south, knowing there was little time to come to consensus. Smoke was still rising behind them, covering the smoldering ruins of what had once been the mighty Glastok Wood in a black fog. They couldn't see what had become of the forest they had just escaped from through the suffocating cloud, but they could hear the sound of war, singing its timeless notes of metal on metal, boots on earth, and death to come. It was the familiar crescendo of destruction that all three men knew all too well.

Lucius had been a war doctor in his time. It was another life, another person, but the haunting scenes stayed with him. He had been Doctor Atma back then, a proud Narsillian physician, and he had seen all the horrors of war as if he were a soldier himself. Blood, fire, and sorrow had been a constant companion to him back then, as he watched good men he never knew die in front him. He had learned to ignore the cries of agony early on, and had persevered as a successful field surgeon during the tumultuous years of Narsille's "global unification" days. Even for the hardened doctor, though, the horrors of Narsille's own destruction had proved too much, and he had fled from that world, utterly. The brutal scars of his mad flight had covered his body, mind and heart, and for a time he knew a twilit peace in the presence of the Star of the West. But now, war, his old companion from his other life had returned, and the present clanking sound of steel, the red-tinted smoke of the war engines, and the inevitable march of men going to their death stirred old memories in Lucius that he would rather keep buried.

Dragonetti, on the other hand, had been a real soldier, and had fought with sword and shield for his king in his younger days, now long behind him. He, too, had seen more of large-scale war, with its generals and kings far removed from the suffering of the common soldier, than he could take. After one of the many forgotten civil wars with the East had ended, he decided he would rather have his fate in his own hands, and not that of some distant king. His entire family had been butchered in that petty civil war, and he swore never to fight on anyone's terms but his own after that. Throwing down his sword and shield, he took up the bottle instead, and found comfort in his metal mistresses, Justine and Juliette. Always listening for that familiar melody of pain and loss, the Stradivari heard his lonely cries of anguish from the bottom of his bottles, and called out to him. Without hesitation, Dragonetti joined their family, bringing with him his unique brand of combat and two decades of hard-earned experience on the frontlines. They welcomed him in a way his country never had, never could. To them, he was not just a number, a body to be flung at the opposition. To them, he was a brother, and a son.

The silent Hammer, perhaps the most tormented of the group, had suffered terribly at war's greedy hands. Like Dragonetti, his family had been killed in the same civil war with the East, but when he was just a child, no older than four. Only he and his older sister, Claire, had survived the slaughter of his entire village, his entire world. While Hammer had escaped unharmed, Claire had been badly injured trying to protect him, and could not walk. Despite her infirmity, Claire quickly became the reason for Hammer's existence - sister, mother, daughter, and goddess, all in one. She was the solid pillar at the center of his life, and he carried her everywhere in his arms, acting as the legs she could no longer use. By the time he had reached twenty years old, he was a giant of a man. Claire however, had never fully recovered from the accident that crippled her, and slowly weakened as Hammer grew in strength and vitality. One day, the inevitable happened, and Claire succumbed to a long illness, dying as she had lived - in her brother's arms. Hammer never spoke again, and shortly afterwards, the Stradivari heard his silent cry. It was Dragonetti who had found him living alone in the Zozo mountains, wearing heavy stones across his chest in place of his lost Claire as some sort of penance for surviving. The two had looked into each other's eyes and saw the same ghosts, and from that day they never parted.

Now, though, the three men were faced with a new war, and had to make a decision. Any moment Bahamut's human armies would storm from Glastok Bastion, now a blackened spire in the middle of what was quickly becoming known as the Glastok Waste, and they would be overwhelmed.

"We ain't goin' east, Hammer," Dragonetti said forcefully, but not as rudely as he would have done towards Lucius. "They'll be gatherin' their forshes over there, too. We'll jush be caught in the middle."

Lucius calmly repeated his plan. "I have powerful allies in the north. If we follow the river north, we will meet up with them, and they can protect us."

_Besides, I have things I need to discuss with Ralse and Phantom. They do not know the true extent of Doom's plans, but now I do. They think they are safe behind the barrier of the Medina, but they are not. Leviathan cannot fall before Bahamut. My plans will not be disrupted by that old snake's arrogance._

Dragonetti cursed violently. "You mush shtill be out of your gourd if you think we're goin' into the mountains wish those barbarians! I don't care who ya think ya know up there, they'll shkin ush alive. Nobody who goes into the mountains ever comes back, you know that!"

Hammer shook his head and put one large palm on Dragonetti's shoulder. He had come back from the mountains, thanks to Dragonetti.

"I know, but we're not all like you, Hammer. I'm too old for that kind o' shtuff now." Dragonetti jerked his thumb south again. "We go to Marylebone, it's the only way!"

Not one to dwell on matters overmuch, Hammer nodded in agreement, and now it was two against one.

Lucius hid his frustration under his hooded robe and scarred features, but he could see they would most likely be going south, and cursed his rotten luck at being rescued by such stubborn country bumpkins. He could not make the journey north alone, and these two would not follow him without Marylebone's consent. He knew someday things would be different, but for now, he was still just a novice Stradivari, with no influence at all.

Shrugging his shoulders with as much indifference as he could feign, Lucius consented. "Fine. We go to Marylebone. Once I tell him what I know, I'm sure he'll agree with me, and send me north," Lucius smirked under his hood. "Hopefully with more agreeable partners."

"Oho, if ya don't like our company Molitor, then feel free to go north on yer own!" Dragonetti's nostrils flared at the offense, and his fists balled unconsciously.

"I wish I could, but my body is in no shape for long walks through the mountains. Let's get out of here now, before we're trapped."

"Pathetic," Dragonetti muttered, but he nodded to Hammer, and with one quick motion Lucius's light body was in the brawny arms of Hammer once again. "Lemme just get a drink of water before we go. All this booze has made me thirsty as hell."

Lucius convulsed in Hammer's grip, reaching out one frantic, withered arm to stay Dragonetti. "Wait! Do not drink from the Medina."

"Eh? And why not?"

"All who drink from its waters are compelled to travel north, to meet the Goddess. Drink too much, and you're a slave to her will forever. Unless you want to travel to Zozo after all, I suggest you wait until we reach South Jidorik. It's waters are untainted."

Dragonetti raised one bushy eyebrow, but pulled back his hand from the deceptively blue waters. "How do you know all thish?"

Lucius waved his extended hand over the river's length. "Because I have drank from it myself, and have felt its effects. All who wish to form a pact with the residents of the Zozo mountains must drink from the Medina."

"No wonder ya want to go north, but ya seem fine ter me right now. Why ain't ya galloping off to yer goddess now?"

Lucius shrugged. "My will is strong."

"Oh, and ours ain't?" Dragonetti huffed.

"Do you want to find out?"

Dragonetti blinked, then spat into the river without replying. "Let's mosey," he said after a moment. "This place is giving me the willies now. Too quiet."

"Agreed."

The three men left the quiet Medina as they had found it. All three were terribly thirsty, but after Lucius's warning, no one drank from its waters. After several days of hard walking, they had left the Glastok region of West Jidorik behind, and were coming to the region of the continent known as South Jidorik. This realm was not claimed by either East or West, and jutted out from in between the two plains of East and West like a long, crooked finger. It was in this neutral zone, at the very tip of the finger, that they would find the Stradivari known as Marylebone.

The journey south was a long one, though, and would not be possible on foot without more provisions. Eventually the water here joined with the other rivers in the region, forming a large bay where they could drink. A small forest hugged the bay area, and the three Stradivari stopped in the small sanctuary for rest, and to figure out how to proceed.

"Wait a minute," Dragonetti said, more sober than usual. The chain of recent battles had run both his seemingly bottomless containers almost empty, and he was not happy. "My head's killin' me, but I seem ta remember this here's a chocobo forest, and I swear I smell 'em nearby. Give me sec."

Dragonetti disappeared into the heart of the small forest. Lucius and Hammer simply sat on a large fallen log and waited to see what their companion was up to. Suddenly, there was a terrific warking sound, and three large yellow birds broke from the deeper parts of the wood. Smiling his toothy grin, Dragonetti was riding one of them, and had two ropes leading to the others.

"Hah! Told ya! These here chocobos should get us to Marylebone's place in a jiffy. I don't think I could take another day without booze."

With their new steeds, the men quickly made the trek further south, and in less than a day they had arrived at the southernmost tip of the continent. Rising up on rolling green hills was an enormous palatial manor in the middle of a carefully manicured field. It was a villa fit for a king's royal summer retreat, with four large towers, one at each corner of the four wings of the square manor. In each tower's belfry hung a single massive bronze bell. There was a large open space with a stage at the center of the manor, like a town square. Statues of all kinds stood along the ramparts of the four long wings of the manor like gargoyles, some beautiful, some hideous, all crafted with the exquisite care of the Western artisans.

Long rows of blooming flowers lit up the fields around the manor in a thousand different colors, and a well-cared for stone road led up the hill to the oaken double doors. The lapping of the calm waters around the tiny peninsular fingertip and the rustling of countless flower petals could be heard and smelled on the warm breeze that floated over the entire area. This far south, the air was pleasantly warm all year round, and the earth, sea and sky exploded with verdant greens and cerulean blues.

Dragonetti and Hammer did not seem impressed, but Lucius was deeply moved by what he saw and felt. This was the vision of Jidorik he had imagined when Maria had described her homeland to him. This was where he had wanted to go when he left the cold, artificial world of Narsille behind. He would have preferred to have Maria at his side as he entered this paradise, but the Stradivari were his only family and friends now, as unpleasant as they could sometimes be.

"What is this place?" Lucius asked softly, not wanting to dispel the dream-like quality of the world around him.

"Manse von Muir," Dragonetti said simply. "Just be quiet and let me do the talking, ya hear?"

Lucius had no desire to talk at the moment, and grunted his assent.

It was a short trip up the stone road on chocobos, and soon the men found themselves at the hand-carved wooden doors, each one twenty feet tall and ten feet wide. Two women in light armor guarded the doors, long spears in hand.

"Who goes there?" Both women crossed their spears over the doors, barring any attempt at passage.

"Jack Squire, here to see Prince von Muir. These are my friends, my _brothers_." Dragonetti sounded very different talking to the women, almost noble himself. He put a strange emphasis on the word 'brothers' that made the two woman instantly relax and lower their weapons.

"You may enter, but please be patient. The Prince is currently meeting with several very important visitors from afar." The woman was polite as she said this, but there was a strange look of fear in both women's eyes that none of the men could decipher.

"C'mon," Dragonetti said, ushering them into the hamlet-sized Manse von Muir. "If my nose is right, I know who we're waiting for."

Continuing through the archway that carved its way through the north wing of the manor like a tunnel, they reached the sunlit open expanse situated at the center of the building complex. There was a stable to their left where they dismounted their chocobos. As soon as they reached the stables, Dragonetti let out a soft "Aha!" and pointed to an object at the end of the stable that left Lucius feeling like he had truly stepped into another world.

"Hello, Sable," Dragonetti cooed happily, stepping up to the large, black creature standing obediently in place without any rope or bridle to keep it tethered. "Haven't seen you in ages, and you're as magnificent as ever."

Hammer followed Dragonetti up to the creature, a giant black chocobo twice the size of their yellow ones, and patted it on the beak with an unusually serene look on his face. There was a rare smile on his lips as he ruffled the jet black feathers under the bird's beak. The regal beast stood by and puffed its breast with pride, allowing the men to admire its grandeur freely.

Lucius stood where he was, lost in his dream. Black chocobos were almost a myth, and he had certainly never seen or heard of any in or around Narsille, or any of the war torn regions he had visited in his tour of duty. He had heard stories, of course, but they were believed to be endangered, if not extinct in this day and age. Despite seeing wonders and horrors straight out of legend both in Narsille and Jidorik ever since the Espers had appeared, nothing had affected him quite like this proud animal quietly standing alone from the rest of the world in the secluded majesty of Manse von Muir.

"Can it fly?" Lucius finally managed in a small voice, familiar with the fairy tales of the flying black chocobo.

Dragonetti laughed a full, rich laugh and caressed the bird's finely trimmed and decorated wings, far longer and wider than the stubby appendages of the common yellow chocobo. "Like a bird, hah!"

Lucius studied the bird while his two companions greeted it warmly. He noticed it had no saddle or bridle like a typical domesticated chocobo, but did have several large sacks hanging from it, as well as all manner of jewelry and dressings. It looked like some foreign dignitary, adorned with all the finery of the highest positions of nobility. There was no doubt that this was a queen among chocobos. "Who's is it?" Lucius asked, wondering if it belonged to the so-called Prince that apparently lived in this wonderland.

"Sable is a she, not an it, newbie," Dragonetti said. "And she's the pride n' joy of one of the Stradivari's highest-ranking members, Servais. If she's here, then he must be here as well." Dragonetti stroked his forked beard thoughtfully, then continued. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not, though. Servais doesn't usually just pop in to say hello, if ya know what I mean."

"Hello, Dragonetti."

As if on cue, a man strode out from one of the many doors leading into the open square from the housing area. He was a middle-aged man, but extremely healthy looking, and wearing crimson-dyed, tight-fitting riding gear. He was deeply tanned and had a thick head of close-cut white hair with a pair of riding goggles snuggly resting around his head, above his eyes. He walked with a smile and a swagger, and Lucius knew instantly that this man was Servais, the Stradivari owner of the black chocobo.

The one thing Lucius noticed immediately about the man was the intimidating array of equipment he had clinging to his person. On his back was strapped a large, silver double-barreled hunting rifle, in his leather belt were two pairs of dark golden, cross-shaped hunting daggers, hanging from his right side was a series of differently sized bells, all attached together like sleigh bells, and hanging from his left side was an impressive black hunting horn, sparkling like obsidian in the sunlight. Unless Lucius was much mistaken, the instrument was carved from the horn of a monstrous beast called a behemoth, a fearsome creature almost as rare and legendary as the black chocobo.

Dragonetti jumped and whirled around in surprise at the crisp voice that had called out to him. "As quiet as ever, eh Servais?"

"And as drunk as ever, eh Dragonetti?" the man replied, smiles on both faces.

"Only way t'be," Dragonetti said automatically, but then frowned. "Not quite as much as I'd like at the moment, though. Any chance I can get a refill for my ladies while we're here?"

"Of course," Servais said pleasantly, stepping up to Hammer and patting him warmly on his beefy shoulder. "I'm sure the Prince wouldn't mind a short trip to his private stores. But I suggest you meet with him first and pay your respects. I'm just leaving now after a very interesting meeting. My guests are still in the dining hall, enjoying his company. I think you might want to meet them, all of you," for the first time Servais looked at Lucius, his piercingly black eyes narrowing as he looked at the scarred, robed, man. "Molitor, I presume?"

Lucius tried to act his usual collected self, but the man before him disarmed him with that knowing gaze and confident swagger. Servais was definitely no ordinary man, or Stradivari, for that matter. "Uh...y-yes," he stammered, sounding like a fool to his own ears.

Servais just smiled his hypnotizing smile, showing a row of bright white, perfect teeth. "A pleasure to meet you. I've heard much about our newest family member from the north. I'm sure Marylebone will be very interested in what you have to say."

Servais approached Lucius and extended his hand to shake. Lucius took the hand and shook it, still slightly confused on what to make of this man. There was no doubt, this was a man of pure, iron will. Perhaps even greater than his own...

"That's a nasty scar on your hand, Molitor," Servais said, his keen eyesight spotting the nearly circular arc that traced its knotted path around the back of Lucius's extended hand. "It looks like a talon wound from a very large predator bird. A Marchosias? Vasegiatta? Perhaps even a Galypdes?"

Lucius had no idea what any of the strange names Servais used referred to, but the man was right that it had been a very large predator indeed that had wounded him.

"An Esper did that to me. The rest, I did to myself." Lucius said quietly, old memories burning painfully at the back of his eyes.

Servais said nothing, but his eyes darted back from where he had come from, then came back to rest on Lucius again. "I see...well we all have our pasts to deal with here. Just remember, you're never alone in the Stradivari, brother."

"I will," Lucius said, a rare spasm of camaraderie rising in his chest despite his best efforts. He did not want to admit it, but he respected this man. Even liked him, as much as his worn out heart could ever like anyone.

"Good!" Servais said abruptly, letting go of Lucius's hand. "Now then, I need to be off. It's been a wild ride down here, and I need to return to Cremona and report to Solomon. Take care, brothers."

All three men watched as Servais skillfully leaped onto the broad back of his fabulous steed. Taking the behemoth horn from his side, he let out a loud blast like the bellow of the behemoth itself. Sable warked loudly along with the horn, and raised its powerful wings. With a sharp downward thrust, the pair rose into the sky like a rocket, briefly blinding the trio on the ground with a cyclone of dust, grass, and black feathers. When the cloud settled, there was no sign of Servais and Sable, but the song of his hunting horn could still be heard echoing across the countryside, mingled with the chocobo's distinctive warble.

"Amazing," Lucius said without thinking.

Dragonetti smiled and nodded, his eyes still straining to follow where the two had gone. "Damn straight."

Lucius started, and quickly recovered himself. "Well then, what now?"

"Now, we meet the Prince, and figure out what to do with you," Dragonetti said, his gaze returning to earth.

Still slightly dazed by Servais and Sable, Lucius obediently followed Dragonetti and Hammer across the open space, towards the manor's southern wing on the other side. The scale of the structure was truly immense, and Lucius almost forgot he was inside the central square of a single large building, and not strolling down the center of a small village. There were servants, gardeners, butlers, maids, and a hundred other people of the manse running about on their duties, but what caught Lucius's eye was the wide wooden stage at the very center of the open expanse.

"Why is there a stage there?" Lucius asked.

"The Prince is a well-known patron of the arts," Dragonetti said. "He's a bit of a playwright himself, and likes to perform plays here. If you look, you'll see two actors on the stage right now, practicing something or other. They're both Stradivari, by the way."

Lucius started, and trained his eyes on the stage. There were in fact a young man and woman, dressed up and yelling out lines. Lucius shuddered as he saw the man wearing golden armor and the woman dressed in a beautiful white gown with a blue ribbon in her blond hair. They looked terribly familiar...

_"Oh my hero, so far away now..."_

_"For the rest of my life, I'll keep you near..."_

The two voices rang out over the open space, intertwining with each other in a passionate embrace that mirrored the man and woman dancing together on the stage. Lucius was dumbstruck, transported to another world as he listened to those voices, and remembered happier times, before his heart and soul had been crushed.

"Pretty, ain't it?" Dragonetti's very unmusical voice intruded. "That there's Ruby and Red Diamond, the star actors in all of the plays here. This one sounds like an opera."

"A dream opera," Lucius said, entranced.

"Heh, anyways, we need to keep moving. The dining hall is just ahead."

Lucius forced himself to stop listening to the musical voices of the two performers, especially the woman, Ruby. "Right," he said sadly.

There were only a few scattered couriers and servants in the dining hall when Lucius, Dragonetti, and Hammer arrived. At the far end of the hall, almost out of sight from their distant vantage point was the head of the table where the slender figure of a man sat, still eating. Standing next to him was another warrior maiden, and seated at the two end seats beside the head of the table were a strangely mismatched pair of guests. One of them was a tiny girl with overflowing brown hair hanging down to the floor, her little legs kicking back and forth impatiently. On the opposite end to her, taking up several sturdy chairs, sat a giant of man...no it was far too large to be a man at all...it could only be...

"Dune!" Lucius roared out violently. "Dune Karn!"

Dragonetti jumped at the unexpected outburst from the usually composed Lucius. "Molitor, what the hell? You know that thing?"

Lucius strode down the dining hall as fast as his legs could carry him, almost running. He stumbled twice, pushed several chairs out of the way rudely, and knocked one unlucky servant down as he marched straight towards the giant, his wide eyes never once blinking, or leaving the giant's surprised face.

"Hey, wait, ya can't just..." Dragonetti sputtered, trying to keep up with the surprisingly rapid step of his incensed companion.

"Dune Karn!" Lucius repeated when he reached the end of the table, unable to say anything else at the moment. "You...you...!"

The woman that had been stationed next to the man at the head of the table quickly leaped between Lucius and the giant, her spear threatening to pierce his heart if he took one step closer.

"Venus, enough!" the sleepy-looking young man at the head of the table shouted with the tone of undeniable command. The woman instantly stepped back, and even Lucius seemed to come back to his senses and step back, blinking as if he just realized where he was.

"Master Squire, who is this man?" the man said to Dragonetti in a quieter voice, but with the same stern note of command. He stood up from his chair, giving a specific hand signal to dismiss everyone in the room. Couriers, servants, patrons, anyone who was not a part of the current group of guests exited the room as politely and rapidly as they could. As soon as the thick doors shut, the man sat back in his seat. "Now, then. Dragonetti, explain yourself."

"I am sorry, Marylebone, sir," Dragonetti said humbly, "I have no idea what's gotten into Molitor."

"This man is Molitor?" The young man shifted in his seat to study the trembling, but now silent Lucius. The man was small, barely twenty, and looked like a spoiled prince with his fancy purple and gold costume, velvet cape and jaunty feathered cap. But his eyes were steel, and his hand was on a long, deadly rapier tucked into the side of his expansive chair. "Well, if you are Molitor, speak up!"

"I am," Lucius said, struggling to find his voice after the scene he had caused. The little girl and the giant simply sat in their seats without a word, waiting to see what was going on. If either of them recognized Lucius, they did not show it.

"And why did you barge in here and nearly assault my guest here? Do you know him?"

"I do."

"You called him Dune, Dune Karn? Are you sure you know who this is?"

"That monster is an Esper, a servant of the enemy. He was once a man named Dune Karn, but now he is a murderer, a slave to the vile gods plaguing our lands. He cannot be trusted!" Lucius said all this in a single breath, his scarred hand pointing a shaking finger directly at the giant sitting only a few feet from him. "He is a monster!" He said again, after he had regained his breath and his composure.

"Well, do you know this man, Maduin?"

The giant remained seated, peering at the hooded, ragged creature accusing him. It was true, all true. There was nothing this man had claimed that Maduin hadn't once believed himself, but who was this specter, pointing its withered finger at him with such hate?

"I...do not know this man..." Maduin said uncertainly. There was something familiar about the man, but it was beyond him.

Lucius took a step closer and threw back his hood, revealing the horrifically mangled face, the shockingly white hair hanging in dank clumps, and the malicious grin of a madman. "Look at me, Dune! Have you forgotten Narsille? Have you forgotten what you did there? Have you forgotten me?"

"I don't know..." Maduin said again, but he thought maybe he did.

"Maydune, that man sounds scary...make him go away," the little girl said plaintively from her chair. Her blank eyes stared off at some point behind the man, not quite focused on anything.

"Who's this, Dune? Another victim? Another Maria?" Lucius spat.

"Enough, Molitor!" Marylebone said, rising. "You are acting in a way most unbecoming a Stradivari. Maduin and Elphis are honored guests here, with vital news on the state of things in the north. Servais has vouched for both of them as exemplary individuals, worthy of our trust and aid. Who are you to make such accusations against them?"

The mention of the unassailable character of Servais hit Lucius like a bullet. He visibly shook himself free of whatever demons were raging inside his mind, and put his hood back over his head, covering his face. He lowered his hand and turned away from the table.

"This monster is responsible for the destruction of my home, my life, my happiness. I was once Doctor Lucius Atma, and he was once Dune Karn. Narsille fell because of him. _I _fell because of him."

"Atma...?" Maduin said, shocked. "You're Doctor Atma? What has happened to you? Why are you here?"

Lucius Atma laughed unpleasantly, covering his mouth with his hand to try and stifle his emotions. "Why are any of us here, now? I intend to save the human race from monsters like you. Espers. What are you doing here? Which dark god are you serving?"

Now Maduin stood up, towering over everyone in the room, even Hammer. "I serve no master! I am free from the chains of the gods, and follow my heart."

"Maydune, I'm scared...," the girl said from her seat, biting her lip.

"Don't worry Elphis, everything's fine," Maduin said calmly, but with his eyes looking straight down at Atma's ragged form. "This is just another adult being stupid."

The girl hiccupped in a weak attempt at laughter. "Hee, okay..."

"Stupid, you say?" Atma said. "We'll see who's stupid in the end, Dune...or is Maduin now? No matter, I have urgent news on the Dragon King. He's poised to attack the East at any moment, and as soon as the first town falls, it will be the end for both East and West Jidorik. Can you stop him, Dune?"

"The Dragon King? You mean Draco?" Maduin said, tensing. "I have come to stop him, return him to his senses if possible. I have to believe the Espers can be saved, or there is no hope for this world."

"There is no hope for you, Dune, or for Draco. It will be us humans who bring peace back to this world. Your kind has no place here, Esper."

"Enough." Marylebone said, still standing at the head of the table, watching the exchange between the two men carefully. "I've heard enough. Dragonetti, show Molitor to his room. Obviously there is much to discuss, but everyone has had a long journey here, and I am sure we could all use a rest. We'll reconvene tomorrow, and perhaps with a little more civility, hm?"

"But Bahamut...!" Atma began, but was silenced with a wave of Marylebone's ring-studded hand.

"I said enough. I hear your words, Molitor. I will send word to all Stradivari in Jidorik to prepare themselves, but if war is coming as soon as you say, there is little we can do to stop it at this point. Servais is flying to our leader in Cremona as we speak to do what he can there to avoid a similar fate on that continent. For now, we must calm ourselves, and ready for war here."

Marylebone sat back down in his chair heavily, suddenly looking very tired. "Venus, tell the rest of the guard to clear the castle of all patrons." The female guard nodded and walked quickly out of the hall to spread the word. Marylebone sighed. "And I had so wanted to complete my opera. War is a terrible thing." He waved his hand to dismiss his guests, and both Dragonetti and Hammer put their hands on Molitor, forcing him to leave the room without any further antics. Outside, all four bronze bells rang solemnly, dismissing all visitors to the castle.

When Marylebone was again alone with Maduin and Elphis, he looked at the massive Esper carefully, measuring the words of the mad Atma. "Is what that man said true, Maduin?"

"Mostly. He exaggerates, but he has the right. My downfall did not happen in isolation. I took a great many people with me, and I regret it every day of this new, wretched life of mine."

"I understand. But do you really believe you can make a difference now? What can we do, now that war is upon us once more?"

"I have to believe, Prince von Muir, or everything I've done since becoming an Esper is meaningless. Zwill has given me some measure of hope. I never suspected such a force as the Stradivari existed in this world...and I bet the fallen Masters are as surprised as I am after what happened there."

Marylebone chuckled. "Hah, yes Servais certainly was pleased with himself when he arrived, and his high opinion of both of you is rare, let me assure you," Marylebone smiled warmly, looking at Elphis like lost daughter, and Maduin like a lost brother. "Hope goes both ways, you know. Believe in us, Maduin, and we'll believe in you. Zwill was not an accident."

"I want to believe that, sir, but..." Maduin stopped, he still was not sure how much Servais had told the Prince about his unusual companions.

Marylebone's smile grew wider. "Yes, Antissa. Hate, fear, pride, they exist in every town, some more than others. What shall the story of our country be in the end, hm? Will it be a play full of hatred and prejudice, or one of hope and cooperation?"

"That is what I'm here to find out, sir."

"Unfortunately, that is something each man must find out for himself. Zwill proved anything is possible, but Antissa proved that as well. That same drama will play out on a much larger stage this time, and a million different souls will have to search inside themselves for what part they will play in what will undoubtedly be the final great war between the East and West."

"I know where I stand, sir," Maduin said. "I must find Draco, and Captain Bismark, and anyone else enslaved by the fallen Masters, and I must do what I can to free them. That is where my heart is leading me."

"Me too!" Elphis chimed in, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

"Good, good. I believe in both of you. We Stradivari may be mercenaries, but we are also a family, and human. I can understand your desire to free your fellow Espers, Maduin. It is a very Stradivari sentiment, heh."

Marylebone stood up, gesturing for his two guests to stand as well. "We have talked of unpleasant things for long enough. Please, feel free to roam the grounds and enjoy the pleasures of Manse von Muir for the rest of the day. I have sent all non-Stradivari home, so you can relax outside these halls without worry of frightening anyone."

"Thank you, Prince von Muir, you've been most generous."

"Yeah, thanks!" Elphis said, happily, eager to enjoy the vibrant smells, sounds, and sensations of the giant house. She half-walked, half-skipped over to Maduin and grabbed for his waiting hand. The two excused themselves, walking hand-in-hand out of the dining hall and into the sunlight.

"May Altimus guide us all," Marylebone said quietly once he was alone. In his hand was a softly glowing string of pearls that Maduin had given him to study. Yes, he knew what it was he held. The sacred Nacre was an artifact from a distant land and a distant past, and he had never once thought that such a low-ranking member of the Order as himself would ever set eyes on it. But here it was, and it was his sworn duty as a member of the Order of the Pearl to see his Master's will done.

"But what is your will, Master? I am just a lowly servant, barely worthy to hold such a holy relic. I, too, must sleep on these events, and pray for all our souls."

Prince Chris von Muir, solitary heir to the vast von Muir fortune, ninth-ranking acolyte of the Order of the Pearl, and the leader of the Jidorikan chapter of the Stradivari secret society, pondered the multitude of responsibilities on his thin shoulders. Sometimes it all seemed like far, far too much for such a young man, and he just wanted to weep on his long-dead mother's arm. But he was a noble von Muir, a sacred member of the Order, and loyal Stradivari. These titles were sources of strength for the young prince. He could not let his family, all of his families, down at this critical juncture.

"Ah, I am so tired of it all!" the Prince sighed, then finally left the hall alone, exiting through a small door to his private chambers.

To the north, the first blow of the war had been struck as Lucius had predicted. Bahamut's human army poured out across the blackened plains from Glastok Bastion. They forded the Medina, careful not to drink even a drop from it, and continued onwards into Eastern territory. The first town they met, they torched. The Dragon King's orders were clear - no survivors. The pathetic army of the West, fearful for their own lives, followed these orders perfectly. Soon, the Medina would be diverted and drained, and then the real army of the West would flood the plains of the East, leaving nothing but a frozen wasteland behind.

To the west, inside Glastok Castle, Starlet watched with Esper eyes the tragedy unfold. Her human children were out there somewhere, hopefully safe, but she could not see them, hear them, or touch them ever again. She wondered if she would even recognize Aquilas and Leonora in time. For now, the tiny draconic cries of the little Kaiser were the only sounds that reached her ears. She loved all her children, but only Kaiser was allowed to receive her affection. So she would shower him with all the love she couldn't show her lost twins. As she watched the endless lines of human soldiers march east, she siphoned magical energy from her own body into the eager mouth of her little Kaiser dragonlet, curled like a snake in her lap. Someday he would be as mighty a king as his father. Perhaps Aquilas, too, would be a mighty human king, and Leonora a queen.

She shivered as the cold wind that constantly flowed around the castle now increased in violence. Her Master was telling her to focus, and not dwell on the past.

"I hear and obey, Master."

To the east, dying a slow, phthisic death in Ralse Castle was old King Ralse. Word had just arrived of the merciless Western attack on their outlying towns. But still, the peace-loving king could not give the final order to all-out war. He was so sick of it all, and wanted nothing more than to die in peace and leave these pointless mortal wars.

"Anton, what should I do?" King Ralse asked with a voice so faint Advisor Barden had to read his lips to make out what he was saying.

"War is inevitable, my Lord," Barden replied from the king's side. "You must make a decision now, before more lives are senselessly lost."

"No...no more war...I cannot give the order." The old man tried to raise his hand from his bedside, but could not.

"Then allow me to make it for you, father."

When the old man saw his son standing at the foot of his bed, he thought he was dreaming. Even when his own ancestral sword plunged into his skeletal chest, he never once realized his son had killed him. He died believing his final moments were a dream, and that in the end his beloved son was not the evil, heartless monster he feared he had become. He had been such a sweet boy, full of life, full of the noble ideals of the Ralse line...and so that is what he saw and believed as his eyes closed and his heart stopped beating.

Still further north, high in the Zozo mountains, the statue of the Goddess glowed with anger and excitement atop her golden pyramid. Anger at what had transpired in the north, but excitement at what was happening in the south filled the statue's aura. Coiled around the base of the statue like a gargantuan sleeping serpent was the Lord of the Seas, Leviathan. He was resting, trying to recover from his unbelievable defeat. He was sorely battered, bruised, and wounded, and looked very much like a beached whale, struggling just to breath as he lay in a heap at his Goddess's feet.

"They will pay for this outrage...," he hummed under his ragged breath, only half-conscious in his injured condition. "No one humiliates the Herald of Astarte...no one...no one..."

Around the great pyramid, a hundred thousand worshipful throats cried out in unison in praise of their Goddess and her inevitable victory. Among them, Giorgio Gabbianni joined his voice with the rest, now one among many. The air rang with a savage choir singing an ageless song that echoed in the hearts and minds of all people everywhere, and had since the beginning of time. War had come to Jidorik again.


	97. Red Tide, 'The Dreaming Awake'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

_Zwill. Another name unearthed in the moldy tomes of the Ancient Castle of Karnak. Situated in present day Kohlingen, this fabled melting pot of ancient society was apparently a mighty force in both the pre-Magi and post-Magi days of our world. Famous in the pre-War days for its exquisite metalwork, and later for the application of magic to their time-honored techniques, Zwill rose to the height of power in the ancient world before the War of the Magi ended the dreams of its people, like those of so many other peoples and nations._

_Unlike the city itself, many of the legendary weapons and armor forged there survive to this day, their origins and method of crafting long forgotten. Did the magesmiths of Zwill know that some day far in the future their mighty works would help save the world? Perhaps they had some inkling. Perhaps our relatively recent victory was only one of many bloody victories these relics of Zwill have witnessed in their long, silent journey through the twisting causeways of time and space._

_I can only imagine what fearsome combinations of ancient smithing lore and mystical Magi knowledge came together in that place to create the destructive tools used during the War of the Magi. Tools so durable they lasted a thousand years, so powerful they were capable of felling the God of Magic himself. Who were the original wielders of these weapons? Who were the unlucky victims of their wrath? Were they used for good or evil?_

_I must continue my studies into this time..._

-Excerpt from Chapter XII of _"The_ _History of the World"_ by Cid del Norte Marguez, 13 AF

* * *

**Part 11.1 - The Dreaming Awake**

Maduin watched for the thousandth time as Cassandra's face melted away under the force of his own magical fury, revealing a gleaming skull with slack jaw and baleful gaze. Had she even known she was about to die at that moment? The mental vision Maduin had seared into his mind's eye said yes, she knew. The blue holes where her eyes had been burned with a predatory anger, hunting him, haunting him. To the ends of the earth that vindictive stare would follow him.

She was Death. Not her own, but the death of the man that had killed her. Whenever Maduin closed his eyes, it was the blazing wraith of Cassandra that greeted him. Deathless himself, he stared Death in the face every night. Yet what was real?

It was real enough. The pain was real. The murder was real. Cassandra was real. And somewhere out there beyond space and time, the judgment for his sins would be real, too. Maduin was ready for that judgment, had been since the moment the repressed memories of that black day were cruelly forced back into his mind by Chemosh. The fallen god was no longer part of his soul, but the memories he had freed remained, the visions of an innocent woman ripped to shreds by his own uncontrolled power. He was forced to relive that moment over and over in his dreams, if he could call this state dreaming at all.

"Yes, I am dreaming," Maduin said in the nowhere that was the sleeping world of his Esper mind. He knew this nowhere. It was the Nexus, the infinite plain at the center and border of all existence.

Espers, born from the dreams of man and awakened by the desires of the gods, the so-called "Dreaming Awake," existed in a state unlike regular creatures. Their flesh was real and here, but their spirits, their essences, roamed the unformed Nexus freely. While awake, Maduin walked the mortal world like any human, his magically-infused soul tied to the physical body his own mind had created. But the body was a shell, a conduit. At times, it didn't even feel like his own body. It was so cold, so unresponsive. More like clothing than skin. He always felt like he was drifting, holding onto this strange new Esper body as a drowning sailor lost at sea would grip a rotten log.

The body of the man, Dune Karn, had been obliterated in the cleansing fires of the Crystal Furnace at the heart of the Nexus, the heart of all worlds, and so his mind had crafted a new one. The power of the Nexus was the power of creation itself. With the guiding hand of cruel, cold Chemosh, Dune had given up his flesh and allowed a new being to come into existence. As he watched the vivid memory of the destruction of Cassandra, he had felt his own human body disintegrate.

Looking back, he imagined the final scene of his life as a human looked much like a mirror image of Cassandra's final moments. His human flesh melting away into the Nexus to become the stuff of something else, and only his naked soul remaining, its monstrous imperfection bare for all to see. There was no pain, only the freezing, unrelenting force of Chemosh pushing down on his soul from all sides. Closer, closer, impossibly close, and yet closer still. The suffocating pressure of his hateful Master wormed its way into his essence, fusing and becoming one entity of pure magic -an Esper. The Esper Maduin.

Here he was again, in the Nexus, reliving those moments again. In the benighted mortal world, his giant Esper body slept beside the fragile form of Elphis, like a bear sleeping with mouse. Even here in his dream, he could feel the warmth of the tiny girl, huddled next to his cold hulking form. It was obviously not for warmth that she slept next to him, for his body gave off no heat. It was out of pure, child-like trust, and love.

What did the girl dream of? Were her blind eyes healed in her dream world? Maduin hoped so. A spirit as innocent and incredible as hers surely soared the skies of her own personal Nexus with wings of light and eyes filled with every color and hue.

Maduin looked around his own version of the Nexus and sighed in despair. The sigh reverberated across the bland, empty plain like a drop of water rippling across a pond. As if his sigh had beckoned her, Cassandra rose up in front of him, her bright eyes slowly turning into glazed terror, then the scream, then death cold and final.

"Enough!" Maduin howled.

In response, the Nexus image shuddered, faded, and returned to the bleak, white world it was before. Maduin tried to summon more pleasant images from his past, before all this had happened. To his childhood, when his mother had been happy and his father alive.

But nothing came, and nothing remained before him. As if Chemosh still held some tenuous grasp on his thoughts, Cassandra rose up again, her accusing eyes staring endlessly, full of limitless sorrow and pain.

Maduin tried to remember the intoxicating bliss of the early days of his marriage to Mae, but only her mournful kneeling form from the garden in Antissa showed itself to him. It never turned around, and always vanished in a whirl of black hair as soon as it appeared, leaving only the crater where the dead rose bush had been, like a grave. And out of that grave rose Cassandra's ghost once more.

"Enough...enough..."

But it was never enough. The Nexus was a world of pain for Maduin. It could be anything he chose it to be, he knew this. If he wanted, he could be human again, walking through the soft, yielding sands of some foreign desert and digging for clues to the past, perhaps with his father by his side. And Mae and Elphis too. And Captain Bismark, and all the others he had lost on this damnable journey. He had found that his past was full of monsters, however, and it was these monsters that dogged his every attempt at peace.

"I must wake up..."

Walking, walking, walking...Maduin continued walking through the dreamscape of his past, only finding demons and the dead. Chemosh, ruling over a world of ice, Master of Cocytus and of his soul. Sade rose up now, clad in his smoking, bloody armor and threatening all that Maduin loved. Cerberus, his brimstone mouths laughing, cursing and dying, spewed hate at him. Elle Laperdeau and her crooked, judging finger towered over him, screaming like a banshee to leave Antissa, to leave Mae, to leave this world that he did not belong in anymore. Mae, her back turned to him, picking dead roses for her dead husband.

And Cassandra, rising, rising, rising above all the rest. She was the symbol of all his guilt, the center of his self-hatred. The blue-tinged skull always remained, floating in front of his eyes. It was always the last image he saw before returning to the mortal world, the world of flesh and bone.

Maduin shot up, his heaving body suddenly blotting out the pale moonlight of the twin moons like a massive oak. The dream was over, but he still felt the disconnect of his Esper body. Yes, the Dreaming Awake never truly rose from their dreams, never truly left the womb of the Nexus.

The frail, faintly warm body of Elphis snuggled next to him comfortably, but he could still hear Cassandra's skull gnashing its teeth angrily behind him, like fading footsteps. An aura of blue ringed his vision, threatening to coalesce back into the empty eyes of Cassandra. The wandering fingers of Death itched at the back of his own skull, reminding him it would return should he close his eyes again.

For now, though, he was free from his demons. Looking at Elphis, he felt his heartrate slow and calm in his deep chest. He was alive, and so was she. The slight warmth of her body felt wonderful to his frozen skin, and his hopes for the future and the past were revived, if only for a moment. She always had this effect on him, sleeping or awake. The gnashing faded to silence, the blue ring dissipated, the fingers of Death receded back beyond the curtain of the world. Maduin was alive.

"Elphis...do you know how special you are?" Maduin said softly, not wanting to wake the little girl.

A smile crept across her sleeping face, and she muttered, "Lemme sleep some more Maydune..."

The girl's preternatural hearing had picked up on his voice, of course. He ran a single taloned finger across her face as gently as he could, pushing a ridiculously long strand of brown hair aside. He swore she had never had her hair cut in her entire life, but the body-length effluence was quite fitting on her for some reason. Everything seemed to fit on Elphis. She wore the world like a well-made dress, and all of existence was her ball. Maduin would give everything he had, all the monstrous power he possessed, his very soul to make this little girl happy, and it scared him a little when he realized this. The two had grown incredibly close over the two months of hard trekking across hard country, and he wondered how he could have ever kept his sanity this long without her constant, innocent optimism and support.

Dune Karn had never had the chance to have children, but he felt if he had, Elphis would have been a perfect daughter. If only he had known about her orphaned existence in Antissa before all this had happened, perhaps he could have saved her from her life of destitution, and in doing so, saved himself. Thoughts of another life where he and Mae were still happily married, with Elphis as their adopted daughter, and Narsille still stood, as perfect and magical as before, swam across his vision.

But that dream was not for him, and he knew it. He deserved everything that he had allowed to happen to himself, but did Elphis deserve it? She never complained, but still, he had ripped her from her homeland, and dragged her across glaciers, deserts and mountains. Surely she would have been better off staying in Antissa? Surely Elle Laperdeau couldn't be that cruel, that vengeful to punish Elphis for Maduin's sins, long after he had gone? And yet, he somehow knew she was that vengeful, and that Elphis would take it, and thrive, as she always had in her short, tough life.

The girl sighed happily and squeezed the sleeping Kumiro in her arms as she descended back into her unknown dream world where perhaps she could see, perhaps she had two loving parents and a home. The moogle squeaked a tiny "ku!" like a stuffed animal, and the girl giggled, lost to the world.

Hope. This is what Elphis was to Maduin. At night, the bald, glaring skull of Cassandra drove him mad with fear of the past. During the day the flowing hair that danced in the wind and the blind eyes that never judged, never saw the monster before them, calmed his beating heart and gave him hope for the future. Somehow he would make a future worthy of this girl, and somewhere he would find a home for her. It was foolish to think that home would include him, but if he could just build it, set the foundations, that would be enough.

First he needed to find his friends, though. If the enigmatic Lady Blunt was right, Captain Bismark was still out there, and Draco as well. They were still trapped, their souls imprisoned by Chemosh, bereft of hope. The Nacre had saved Maduin, he knew that. Somehow it would save them all, he believed that. He just needed to find out how to make it work again. He needed a miracle.

The rocky plains of the Zwill countryside appeared below him in the moonlight. Its jutting stones bleached and sparkling with their stark whiteness rose like far flung teeth as they left the barren Karnak mountains and gradually melded with the grassy lowland hills of the western countryside. It was a country rich in natural resources, and overflowing with people from all over the world. Surely someone there would know of the Nacre and its mystical heritage. He needed to find someone from the Order of the Pearl. Only they could unlock the mystery of the Nacre.

The head of the Order of the Pearl had been cut off under the burning streets of Narsille, but the body remained, scattered throughout the world, waiting and wondering what was to be its fate in these uncertain times. If the greatest city on the planet could be destroyed in a single night, what chance did any town have now?

After the tragedy of their homeland, the Order would be even more secretive and careful than before, but he had to try and contact whatever was left of them. He had to believe that his new life as an Esper had meaning, that there was something he could do, something he should be doing. Elphis had brought the light of hope back into his darkened life, and now it was up to him to nurture that fragile flicker. In time it would grow, infect all who met it, and become a glorious blaze of inspiration to a tired world on the brink of disaster.

Antissa had cast the two out, shunned the precious little light that was offered to them, but perhaps Zwill would welcome them, and then the light would have its chance to blossom into something greater than one blind little girl and a wayward Esper. Greater than a single town, nation, or empire. Greater even than the gods that threatened to extinguish it.

This was Maduin's dream while he was awake, this was what his heart told him. He would not return to sleep tonight. The ghost of Cassandra had been banished for a time, and all the many swirling worlds of the Nexus were quiet in his mind. In a few hours the night would end and the sun would begin to rise over the Karnak mountains and spread its warmth onto this foreign region. Maduin had no idea what to expect in the city of Zwill, but he had his tiny flame of hope by his side and in his heart.

And that was enough.

In the distance, the glistening carapace of a giant golden insect hummed and vibrated inside its protective magical shell, unseen, unheard, unknown. The Esper Zona, the Seeker of Moloch, was watching, and reporting.

"Nothing new to report. Maduin approaches Zwill as he continues towards the Jidorik region. Likely to reach Zwill by 10:32 in the morning. Follow up on reports of foreign Esper activity in city inconclusive, but still strong. 72% chance of unknown influence being Leviathan, Herald of Astarte. Other creatures of unknown power and form rumored there as well. 66% chance they are Espers, but it is possible they are more aberrations spawned from the influx of wild magic from the Crescent Island event. Numbers unknown. Will continue to follow and report without engaging. Zona out."


	98. Red Tide, 'The Voice of the Earth'

~x~

(Author's Note: Sorry about the delay, but I've begun working on my original novel which I hope to actually publish someday, so updates for The Sands of Time may not come quite as often as they used to. This is still my baby, though, and I will make every effort to continue updating on as regular a basis as I can manage. Thanks to all the readers still chugging along with this, and I apologize again for the delays.)

* * *

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**Part 11.2 - The Voice of the Earth**

"What's a Herald?" Elphis asked while the two were making their way down the sloping hills at the foot of the Karnak mountains. There was forest rising before them, dark and silent. On the other side, the port town of Zwill. And beyond that, the gods only knew.

Maduin stopped his tireless march downhill mid-step, looking over at the little girl on his massive shoulder in surprise. Kumiro stopped fluttering and waited patiently next to them, hovering and happy.

"What did you say?" Maduin had never mentioned anything about him once being Herald, or even the word to Elphis. "Where did you hear that word from?"

Elphis climbed up and around the large spike on Maduin's shoulder, bending over so that her head was resting against his neck, just beneath his left ear. Maduin could feel her warm breath on his face, and her long hair draped over his back like a cape. It was a wonderful feeling.

"The stone told me," she whispered into his ear playfully.

"Stone? What stone?" Maduin asked, but knowing exactly what stone she must mean. There was only one stone that might speak, and speak of such things as Heralds.

"Titan, of course! Don't be silly Maydune," Elphis said in her normal voice, still smiling.

Impossible! Maduin had been waiting for the mysterious piece of magicite, the ancient remains of the mighty Esper Titan, to react to him since Genju passed it onto him. Genju had claimed an Esper could still communicate through their magicite shard even after death, but said Titan had never spoken to him. Nor had the strange, pulsing stone ever attempted to reveal any of its mysteries to Maduin. All the time that he had kept it on his person it had simply acted like any ordinary rock. True, it felt warm to the touch, and if you paid close attention, it felt like there was some tiny heart beating inside the hard exterior, but beyond that, it was completely inert. Had Elphis somehow unlocked its secrets?

"Tell me what he said," Maduin coaxed, softly. He knew Elphis in her innocence had no idea the incredible power sleeping inside that pretty stone. When she had asked to hold it for him, he had let her without question. It was as safe in her hands as anyone's, and she had never let it out of her grasp since he had given it to her a few days ago.

"It's hard to hear him most of the time," Elphis said dreamily. "His voice sounds like it's coming from really far away, but I hear him when he speaks really loud."

"You...hear his voice? I've never heard anything."

"Adults never hear the things I hear," Elphis stated matter-of-factly. "It's just like that bad dog. I could always hear him coming long before any of the adults."

Maduin smiled. "Of course," he said simply. Elphis's almost superhuman powers of perception had ceased being something he questioned. He knew her blindness had dramatically increased her other senses, and now it made perfect sense that if anyone could hear Titan's call, it would be this little blind girl with the ears of a leaf rabbit.

"He's very sad," Elphis continued. "He says he used to be a Herald, and that his best friend killed him. Is he really dead? Am I hearing a ghost?"

Maduin knew Titan's tragic past all too well. It was Genju himself, the pacifist Herald of Altimus, that had murdered his fellow Herald Titan, long ago on the ancient Phoenix Isle.

"Yes, Titan has been dead for a thousand years. I do not know if what you hear is the voice of a ghost, though. What does he say?"

"A thousand years? Wow!" Elphis said with her imperturbable enthusiasm. "So he's really, really old? Older than you?"

"Much older," Maduin laughed. "I'm only thirty-two. Although I may live to be Titan's age someday thanks to this Esper body of mine."

And it was true, he just might. Genju himself was over two thousand years old, and still full of power. It scared Maduin sometimes thinking about the almost limitless life that might be ahead of him. How many people had dreamed of living forever? Would they choose a gruesome body like his if they knew the price? He suspected there were many humans that would do that very thing. To some, immortality was all that mattered, and they'd sell their very soul for any chance at it. Before the end, Maduin was willing to bet there would be many Espers that chose their fate willingly, in hopes of a gloriously long life and awesome power. For the tired and humble archeologist, though, this so-called gift had far too high a price to pay.

"Wow...," Elphis said in a low voice, awed. "Titan says 'the undying body was a curse' and that he is 'still paying the price for the magic blood that was spilled ages ago.' What does he mean?"

"I can imagine what he must have felt like," Maduin said. "Living forever might sound like fun, but after a few hundred years I think it would get boring."

"Nah. You two sound the same. He's always grumpy and you're always sad. Cheer up, both of you!" Elphis smiled wide, and she was speaking both into Maduin's ear and to the large faceted stone at her side. It hung in a simple leather pouch she had made for it, with the help of Maduin. As she spoke, she could feel a pulse of warmth through the leather bag, and she heard the faint echo of Titan, although she did not realize it was only speaking in her mind.

_The Dreaming Awake are cursed. Our lives are a cruel joke, spun from the threads of trickster gods._

"What?" Elphis said suddenly. "Titan's speaking to me again. He's always sad."

"Can you speak to him?" Maduin asked, curious what this mighty Herald of Earth had to say.

"I've tried, but he never seems to talk like a normal person. Sometimes he answers me, but most of the time he just ignores me. He's really rude!"

"Does he say what its like where he's at?"

"Kinda. He calls it the 'Nexus' and says it's lonely there. Just him and no one else, on a big flat plain."

"Sounds about right," Maduin said almost to himself. The Nexus was what you made of it, shaped by a person's mind and thoughts. Maduin's Nexus was full of nightmares and bad memories. Titan, murdered by his friend and king, was probably a similar reflection of his own regrets and fears.

"Huh? That's boring!" Elphis said, hearing Maduin's words clearly, as always.

"It doesn't have to be. If Titan is alone in that world, it is because he chooses to be. Or at least, it's what his innermost thoughts and desires choose for him. The Nexus can be a paradise, or a prison."

"Sounds scary to me. Can't we help him?"

"No. Only he can change the shape of his soul," Maduin said sadly, knowing all to well the powers the Nexus had over Espers.

Elphis scrunched up her face into a pout if incomprehension. "I don't get it. If I was there, I'd make it a happy place, full of flowers to smell, moogles to hug, and a bunch of friends to play with."

"Yes, I imagine you would," Maduin said.

"Kupo!" Kumiro said from their side.

"Yeah, Kumiro would be there, and you too!"

"Perhaps. I don't know," Maduin said glumly.

Elphis's little fist punched the back of his head lightly. "Stupid! Now you sound all sad again! Both of you need to stop moping. I order you to!"

Maduin couldn't help but laugh at the little queen sitting on her spiny throne next to him. "Yes, my queen."

_There is only one queen who can command Titan, and she is as damned as I. She sleeps beneath the waves of her Mistress, dying and being reborn in her own flames of rebirth in an endless cycle. You are a strange creature, though. No one has heard my voice in centuries, nor has any human dared speak to the Herald of Gaeus in such a tone before. I like you, little one._

Elphis heard the words in her mind again, and this time she took the magicite stone out of her pouch and looked at. Maduin, too looked over at the large jewel-like shard as Elphis held it close to his face.

"He spoke to me again," Elphis explained. "This time he almost sounded friendly. But still sad. He called himself a Herald again. I still don't know what that is."

Maduin thought for a moment, then decided he might as well try to explain the complex idea of Heralds to the girl. "A Herald is an Esper that has been chosen by his Master to act in their stead. A Herald is the voice and hand of their Master, and it is through the Herald that their Master's power flows directly. It is from the Herald that most other lower Espers are created."

"Are you a Herald?"

"I was, but I renounced my Master. He was a very bad monster, Elphis."

"Renounced? What does that mean? And was he like the big dog?"

"It means I told him to go away. So far, it seems he has. He is like Cerberus, yes, only much bigger, much more powerful, and much more evil." Maduin looked over at Elphis, her blank face rapt with attention.

"Sounds scary," she said almost in a whisper.

"He is. His name is Chemosh, but I call him Doom, for that's what he was to me. He was the one who seduced me, and turned me into this monster."

_Chemosh was all our dooms. His reach stretches across time and space, calling out to the pride and weakness in all souls, human and Esper alike. My king, the great Herald of Altimus, heard that call, and Chemosh became his Doom as well. And mine._

Elphis nodded as the voice of Titan spoke in her mind, forgetting that Maduin could not hear it. "He sounds like a very bad man. If he ever spoke to me, I'd tell him to go away too!"

Maduin looked at her, wondering what the magicite was telling her. "It is not so easy. Or at least, it was not so easy for me." Maduin's face turned very serious, and he looked directly at Elphis's wide, empty eyes as he continued. "If I ever act in any way that isn't like my normal self, Elphis, you must get away from me as fast as you can. Understand?"

Elphis tightened her grip on her magicite. "I would never leave you, Maydune. Never!"

"You must. If Doom were ever to take control of me again, I would not be myself. I would be his pawn, and would have no problem attacking you. Kumiro would sense the difference right away, so follow his instincts."

Kumiro nodded sagely, following the conversation as best he could.

_Do not worry, little one. Once the bond between Esper and Master has been severed, there is no going back. Your friend will never fall under Chemosh's control again, unless he chooses that path himself. And he would truly be a king among fools to be seduced by such power again, now that he has tasted of its consequences._

Titan's voice calmed the little girl. "Titan says that won't happen, and I think he's right. You're not bad, and you would never hurt anyone."

"I hope it doesn't, but you can never tell what the future may hold. We can only hope," Maduin said, continuing his walk towards the forest ahead.

"Yeah, well I think you're being stupid!" Elphis said without anger, hitting her friend on the back of his hard head again. "Ouch!"

"I've told you, my skin is..."

Maduin never managed to finish his tired remonstration to Elphis's antics. As they approached the forest, a huge shadow flew over their heads, forcing Maduin to dash to cover behind one of the large white slabs of stone that dotted the sloping plains. The shadow wheeled around, coming back towards the two.

_Is that...no, it can't be...not here... _Maduin thought to himself, not wanting to voice his thoughts for fear of scaring Elphis and Kumiro.

But as the shadow descended and its source came into view, Maduin breathed slightly easier. It was not what he thought it was after all. But still, it was huge. The sun was directly behind the gigantic thing, so it was hard for Maduin to make out its features, but he knew it was some sort of monstrous bird.

"Get down!" Maduin rasped into Elphis's ear, pushing her and Kumiro down under his large frame as he spoke. The boulder they were hiding behind was poor cover for the ten-foot Esper, and he did his best to cover both his tiny companions with his body.

It was too late to hide, though, and soon a fearsome screech filled the air as the bird swooped down to attack its prey. Maduin felt talons as large and dangerous as his own scraping against his hard Esper skin, and he was surprised to feel a slight pain at their touch. Most creatures would not be able to pierce his armor-like flesh at all. Perhaps this was an Esper?

Maduin swatted at the huge clawed feet as the searched angrily for a soft spot to tear into He managed to grab one of the bird's feet and pull it down to the ground in a cloud of dust and feathers. The bird was as larger as he was, and yet Maduin found that he hand yanked it out of the sky with unexpected ease. He had grown accustomed to his giant's strength over the past few months, but either this bird was lighter than it looked, or the power coursing through his limbs now was even greater than usual.

In a moment, the bird had gotten back onto his feet, and was squawking furiously at the unexpected attack. Maduin was still huddled in a protective mound over his vulnerable companions, but he hazarded a look at the great creature now stepping warily towards him. It was a magnificent thing, with bright violet plumage and golden-toned beak and claw. It was the shape of an eagle, but grown to unnatural proportions. He had never heard of a bird of prey this size in this area, but then, strange creatures had been assaulting them all along their path from Narsille to Zwill. This one, though, was far more dangerous than the worm-like crawlers and floating vaporites. This thing might actually pose a threat if Maduin wasn't careful.

Another horrible screech and the bird had lifted itself off the ground to pounce on the motionless Maduin. This time Maduin was ready for it, and struck it hard with his clawed hand. The purple plumage gleamed with drops of red blood as the bird spiraled sideways back to the ground. Maduin had struck it hard and true, cutting a sharp gash along its feathered hide. He knew he hadn't killed it, and hoped that perhaps that wound would convince it that this was not a meal worth pursuing further.

The bird lay in an awkward heap almost upside-down, its long legs sticking up in the air and its wings bent at painful-looking angles. It had been batted away like some common pest, and was in a rage over being outclassed so easily. This predator was used to being at the very top of its food chain, with nothing standing against it, be it bird, beast, or even man. For over a century it had flown the skies over Zwill, never feeling pain or fear at the insignificant prey beneath it. It was the king of the skies here, but now...

The bird let out a plaintive howl, and struggled to get back on its feet. Maduin could tell it was not going to give up. It did not look like it knew how to surrender, nor should such a massive beast be expected to know the ways of lesser animals. He still wasn't sure if it was an Esper or not, but so far it was acting like a normal bird of prey, just much, much larger.

Maduin was getting ready to reluctantly deliver what would probably be a fatal blow to the majestic bird when he heard the sound of a gun being fired. In a moment, the bird shuddered and fell back to the earth, a bullet lodged in its thick skull. It still wasn't dead, but it would not be getting up again any time soon.

Maduin remained where he was and waited to see where the shot had come from.

"What was that, Maydune? Is it over?" Elphis whispered from underneath her guardian's stone-like body.

"I don't know. Stay under me, and don't move yet. I see something approaching us from the direction of the forest. This bird's mate, perhaps."

Maduin watched the speck grow larger over the treetops. It definitely was another large bird coming towards them, but something about this one seemed different. Familiar. He didn't have long to wait before his questions were answered, and more were created.

"Kweh!"

Maduin knew that call. It was the warking sound of the chocobo, coming from the large feathery mass closing in on them. But chocobos were flightless, or so he had always thought...

In another moment, the bird had descended far enough that Maduin could tell it was definitely a chocobo. But it was black, and much larger than a normal chocobo. He had heard fairy tales of flying black chocobos, but never had he ever thought they were real.

As the bird came down to earth, its strong feet slammed into the earth with a thud, leaving two deep prints in the ground. It stood erect and proud, like a soldier at attention. Without a word, its rider leapt off the bird and stood at its side, patting its beak affectionately. The two were about a hundred feet away, and Maduin could see that the man had a long, silver rifle in his hands. So this was the shooter?

Silently, the stranger studied the situation, then jumped back on his chocobo and trotted over to the downed bird monster only a dozen feet from Maduin's position. Without getting off his bird or lowering his gun, he guided the chocobo around the unconscious bird, examining every detail. He lifted the sail-sized wings, inspecting the violet feathers and feeling the muscles. He plucked several large feathers, and tucked them away in a pocket of his riding leather. He then walked his bird over to the creature's head and looked closely at its beak, actually opening up the deadly mouth and peering into a maw that could have swallowed him whole. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he snapped the bird's beak shut again, like a Narsillian mechanic slamming shut the hood of one of the city's cabs. Carefully, he tugged at the bullet lodged in the bird's head, removing it from the skull and putting it in the same pocket as the feathers.

So far the man hadn't said a word or looked in Maduin's direction, and the Esper wondered if the man even noticed him. Crouched down and motionless like he was, the man might have thought Maduin was just another large, dark boulder among the rest of the rubble. Maduin had no idea if this man was friend or foe, and for the time being, he stayed where he was. Maduin knew all too well what most people's first impressions of his giant Esper body were like.

Now the stranger was trotting his chocobo to where Maduin had wounded the bird. Maduin heard an audible "What's this?" from the man as he examined the long bloody gash. His muscles tensing, Maduin waited to see how the man would react to his handiwork.

For a moment, the man did nothing. He looked carefully at the wound, stuck his fingers into the thick feathers and ran his hands across the cut, apparently measuring something. After a minute of this, he looked up into the sky, his double-barreled rifle ready to fire at some unknown threat from above. Seeing nothing, he lowered his rifle slightly, but his head remained gazing upwards.

"Maydune...what's going on?" Elphis whispered as quietly as she could.

"Shh.." Maduin rumbled as softly as he could.

It was not soft enough, and both the black chocobo and its rider suddenly looked straight at where Maduin was huddled. The man straightened himself like an arrow and both he and the bird bolted straight towards them, stopping only a couple feet away. Without dismounting, the man pointed his gun directly at the spiky mound that had uttered the very un-boulder like noise.

"This is no Marchosias, Sable...," the man said with a note of confusion in his clear voice.

Pointing his gun at the unknown object, he guided his bird closer and closer, until he was close enough to prod the mound with his gun. It felt like a rock when he touched it, but there was no doubt in the man's mind that this was no rock.

"Beast! Show yourself! Hyah!" The man shouted loudly, as if he were trying to flush a wild animal out from hiding.

Maduin decided the game was up, and spoke in his deep, rumbling voice. "I am not a beast, I am a man. If you promise not to harm us, I will stand."

The man and bird jumped back several feet, nearly taking flight in their shock.

"What manner of creature is this?" the man stuttered. "Not a Marchosias, but not an Adamanchyt like I thought, either." The man quickly recovered, and shouted to his unknown adversary. "I know not what you are, but if you are a man, you are not like any man I ever seen. By Gaeus's beard, not even Hammer compares to your stature!

"I am a man, but I am not a human," Maduin said as carefully as he dared. "Allow me to rise, and I will explain everything."

Now the stranger laughed a hearty guffaw. "Man, I have no claim over you! If you are no beast, then I have no business hunting you. Even so, I think you might be too tough for my arms. You have a shell harder than an adamantoise, stranger! Show yourself, and let us see what is to be done between us. I promise I will not harm you if you do not harm me."

"Very well, but be warned, my appearance can be...startling." Maduin said as he began to move.

The stranger watched in wonder as Maduin rose from his crouched position higher and higher, until he towered over both him and his mount. When Maduin stood before him in full array, the man couldn't help but back his mount away another step. He did not lower his gun, but no longer was it aimed directly at Maduin's heart. What finally managed to drop the hunter's guard completely were the two tiny things still hanging onto the trunk-like legs of the giant.

A little girl and a moogle? He couldn't help but laugh again at the ridiculously disproportioned sight.

"Stranger and stranger! This is a day full of surprises, isn't it Sable?" The man patted his bird's beak, and leaped off its back once again, standing only a few feet from Maduin and his odd companions. "First we manage to down a Marchosias, and now we find...this! Tell me, what are you doing out here in the lowlands, and who are these little ones attached to your side?"

Maduin stood his ground, one hand protectively on the heads of both Elphis and Kumiro. "I am known as Maduin. These two are Elphis and Kumiro. We mean you no harm."

"The girl and moogle I understand, but what are you, man?" The stranger craned his neck far back, looking up at the distant face of Maduin, blotting out the sun behind him. "I have never in all my travels seen anything of your like." Now his head lowered to Maduin's clawed hands. "And unless I'm much mistaken, those are the culprits that gave the mighty Marchosias such an ugly wound."

"It attacked us," Maduin said simply. "I may look fearsome, but I am not a fighter, nor am I a monster. I am what is called an Esper."

"An Esper, eh? Can't say I've ever heard of a creature by that name, and I know the names of all the beasts that roam this world."

"You wouldn't have heard of my kind, since until very recently, we only existed in legends," Maduin sighed. "It is a long story, and one I would rather not discuss out here in the open. We are on our way to Zwill, and then eventually to Jidorik. If you mean us no harm, then I suggest you be on your way. I thank you for taking care of that bird for us, but we would prefer to keep moving."

"Very well," the man said agreeably. "I will not stop you. Hmm, I doubt I could stop a being who could swat a Marchosias out of the sky, anyways. If you are headed to Zwill, then we will probably meet again, since I am headed there as well on a mission. Careful, though. Strange things are happening in town, and upon seeing you, I believe they may be connected to you, or something like you. There are rumors of giant beasts plaguing the town, beasts with fiendish strength and powers, that can talk and think like men. Beasts like yourself."

The man cast an accusing stare at Maduin now. He wanted to trust the giant, but it was too much of a coincidence finding a creature such as this out here, on the outskirts of Zwill. He had been summoned to Zwill to hunt down and destroy exactly a creature such as this, so why was he talking to it like it was a friend? And who were these two misfits with it? Prisoners?

"If they are like me, then they are not my allies," Maduin said, interrupting the man's thoughts and guessing his suspicions from the way his formerly calm gaze turned to steel.

"For some reason, I want to believe you, Esper. But your kind seem to be the reason I'm here, so forgive me if I have my doubts. Why exactly are you headed to Zwill again?"

Maduin did not want to reveal everything to this man he had just met, but he had to try and gain his trust somehow. If the man thought he was a dangerous monster, it would be a repetition of Antissa all over again.

"It is important, that is all I can say. Please, I am not dangerous. I was once a human just like you, and I know how you must feel looking at this form. If you won't trust me, then trust the girl. She is as defenseless as can be, and yet she is more scared of you than she is of me."

"Hey!" Elphis shouted suddenly. She kicked Maduin in the leg in mock offense. "I'm not that worthless, am I?"

"Sorry," Maduin said, half-chuckling. "But as you can see, the girl has no fear of me, and neither should you."

"I see," the man said, glancing again at the long-haired girl with the defiant look on her face. "Elphis, was it?"

"Yeah?" Elphis said, turning her head in the direction of the man's voice. It was a nice voice, she thought, but whoever it belonged it, he was no Maydune.

"This man isn't holding you against his will, is he?"

"Of course not! Don't be stupid. Maydune's my best friend, and so is Kumiro!"

"That would be the moogle?" The man turned his gaze onto the little white ball of fur on Maduin's other leg. He had seen moogles before, but never this far from the Narsillian mountains.

"Kupopo!" the moogle exclaimed, his tone the same as Elphis's.

"He says you're stupid, too," Elphis said in as grown up a voice as she could muster. "If you hurt Maydune, we'll get you!"

"Ha! Full of energy, the two of you are." The man straightened out again and looked at the strange trio once more. "Alright, I believe that you don't mean any harm, but I would still recommend staying out of Zwill for the time being. Like I said, something similar to you is terrorizing the town, and if you waltzed in there looking like you do, I don't think everyone there would be as understanding as me. I'm used to strange sights and fearsome beasts of all sizes, and even I must say, you cut an intimidating figure, Maduin."

"I understand, but I must get to Zwill, at the very least to restock on supplies. I don't need much, but Elphis..."

The man cast a knowing look at the three again. "I see. Well, I won't stop you. At the very least I can alert those in charge that you're coming." The man leaped back onto his chocobo, slinging his rifle onto his back as he positioned himself to lift off.

"Thank you, uh..."

"Oh! I didn't tell you my name, did I? Call me Servais. If you run into trouble in Zwill, just tell them you're with me, and they should back off." The man gripped a large horn at his side and put it to his mouth, then lowered it slightly to give one last word. "When you get there, look for Harcourt Manor. You'll find a friend of mine there. We call him Ole Bull, but his real name is Sampson. Sampson Harcourt. He's the mayor of Zwill, and if you can gain his trust, things will go much better for you there. Now then, I must be off. Until we meet again Maduin."

Servais put the horn to his mouth again, then smiled and lowered it once more. "Oh, and until we meet again, Elphis and Kumiro."

Elphis only pressed her lips together and let out a "Hmph!" as she heard the man blow his great horn and then shoot straight into the air like a feathered rocket. She felt the force of the bird as it lifted into the sky, its wings wafting the smell of chocobo over her nose.

"You can do that too, Maydune. He's not so special."

Maduin laughed at his staunch defender as he watched the hunter fly away over the trees. There was only one other person he had met besides Elphis that talked to him as if he were still human, and not a creature to be avoided or destroyed. That was the seemingly dangerous and unpleasant Lady Blunt. Despite the obvious differences in personality, this Servais seemed to have much in common with the Lady Blunt, and both seemed to have connections to Zwill. Was this man a Stradivari like Lady Blunt? And what of this Ole Bull? It seemed there were a great many powerful people waiting for him just past the forest. His experience with Servais had been a positive one overall, but the Lady Blunt had not left him with a good impression. As of that moment, Maduin was still undecided on whether to trust this secretive group of mercenaries. Zwill looked to be the proving ground for their intentions in Maduin's mind. Tomorrow they should reach the city gates, and then he would see what kind of people inhabited the famous port town.

"Let's get going, Elphis. I don't want to get caught in that forest after dark, and that bird might wake up at any moment."

"Nah, I'm not worried. You could beat that bird silly without even trying, couldn't you?"

Maduin lifted his hand and flexed his fingers, looking at and feeling them move. There was definitely strength flowing through them that wasn't there before. He had to be careful, or that strength could hurt the ones he loved. Maduin claimed he was no monster, but this body of his was still full of surprises, and there was always the chance he might lose control again, overwhelmed by the raw magic flowing through his veins. But he had to admit, it did feel good to know he had the power to protect people.

"Yes, I think I could." Maduin said, smiling in spite of his own uncertainty. "But we can never be too careful."

I bet you're even stronger than Titan!" Elphis said happily, tucking the magicite back into her pouch. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard a distant _Hmph!_ somewhere as she returned the magicite to its proper place in her things.

Maduin said nothing, but he was happy to have someone who believed in him by his side.

Without another word, the three were off again, this time flying in great leaps across the plains in the direction of the forest. Maduin felt he could launch himself right across the forest if he wanted, but that would be reckless. If there were more of those giant birds in the sky he would make an easy target, and they would have no problem plucking Elphis or Kumiro from his back, if they didn't fall off first. No, he had to be responsible with this growing power of his, and continue along the ground just as he had.

As he approached the forest limits, he looked into the sky and could still see the smudge of black that was Servais and his black chocobo flying ahead of them towards Zwill, hanging just above the treetops as they coasted across the forest. As he watched them fade away, he saw something hideous reach out from the forest and try to swat them out of the sky. It looked like a giant green tentacle or vine, swinging out from the canopy like a great tongue. Maduin's heart skipped a beat as he watched in horror the green tendril connect with Servais and bring him down into the mouth of the forest. What had just happened?

"Elphis hang on, we're going up!" Maduin yelled out unexpectedly.

"What's going on?" Elphis said nervously, unaware of the scene that had just taken place ahead of them. "Is it another bird?"

"I don't know, but Servais is in trouble, and we've got to help him!"

"O-okay!" Elphis said, tightening her grip on his shoulder spike.

Kumiro likewise closed his wings tight against his body and hugged Maduin's other spike with all his furry might.

A second later, Maduin had blasted off into the sky with even more speed than Servais and his massive chocobo, a blue contrail of magical energy glowing behind him as he rushed to the rescue of his newfound ally.


	99. Red Tide, 'Malodorous Intent'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**Part 11.3 - Malodorous Intent**

The forest had come alive, and into its great earthen jaws Servais had fallen. Maduin noticed at once that there was something strange about the trees, the plants, the soil, and even the very air of the forest. As he coasted over the treetops towards where Servais had disappeared, he could see the entire wood at a glance, and he distinctly felt that it could see him.

Every green thing below him undulated in a rhythmic pattern that looked suspiciously like a human chest, rising and falling with each breath. The central area Servais had been drawn into was filled with ancient, pitch-black trees twisting with malicious intent over top an ominous looking bulge in the ground. More than once Maduin saw long, vile tentacles slip out of the canopy to follow and then grab any unwary prey. There was no doubt, all the flora of the forest was acting in concert to feed whatever rapacious entity was hidden beneath the mound of black trees at the nucleus. This was not natural. This was wild magic gone amok.

Maduin dipped and turned to avoid swinging vines, each tipped with orange spikes. He was over the spot where Servais had been only moments before, and he could hear the din of a major disturbance just below. As he gazed into the gigantic mouth of the forest, gnashing its wooden teeth, he wished Elphis and Kumiro would have stayed behind. It was suicide to dive into the belly of that beast, but he had to do something. The ferocious warking of the black chocobo could be heard above the forest's weird churning and howling, calling out to any one who could hear it.

"Elphis listen very carefully," Maduin said as he prepared himself to dive.

"What's going on?" Elphis said in a high voice, on the verge of panic. "What's that horrible sound? It's hurting my ears! And something smells _bad_!"

"Elphis," Maduin repeated, calmly. "The forest is making strange noises, but we have to go into it. Do not be afraid."

Elphis gulped and nodded, but Maduin could feel her shaking as he sank into the gloom. He knew she was a strong girl. She had proven that to him in Antissa. But this was so far out of her understanding, and his as well, he wondered how much more she could take, and just what was waiting for them below.

The vines whipped and latched onto him as he slowly lowered himself into the thick heart of the forest. They couldn't hurt him, but they were surprisingly strong, and he had to work to keep himself steady as he approached the ground. More than once he had to rip the vines off him, and he found they bled a vile, dark green ooze when he broke them. It flowed from the vines like blood, spurting and hot. He wondered if this ooze was corrosive like the acid blood of the crawlers? It didn't seem to harm him any more than the crawler blood, but what about a human?

"Elphis are you alright?" Maduin called out over his shoulder.

"Yeah, but this is scary, Maydune," her faint voice called out from just beside him. "Kumiro's able to make the stinky plants stay away from us."

"Kumiro?" Maduin said, confused. He knew the moogle had strange powers, and it could sense and even control weather to a small degree. Apparently, the moogle could control wild life as well.

"Kuu...plants bad...," the moogle said slowly, resorting to human speech to make it's point perfectly clear. "Bad magic..."

"Yes, I gathered that," Maduin said as he hit the spongy bottom of the forest floor with a soft thud.

The scene at the forest floor made Maduin cringe. There were no animals visible anywhere. Instead, the entire forest was covered with twisting, slithering vines. They were everywhere, completely overwhelming all other life in the forest. Looking down at his feet, he could see he landed on a thick mat of the stuff, and he jumped back instinctively.

"Ugh...what smells!" Elphis cried out, covering her nose with both hands and gagging.

Maduin could smell it too. It smelled like death, but not animal death. The odor was thick and pungent with rotting leaves, wood, and fungal overgrowth. Again, there was no sign of any beasts here, even dead ones. The entire forest had become one gigantic, putrid fungus-like organism. Somehow all the plants had mutated and grown together into a single colonial life form, bent on devouring first everything within the forest, and it would seem now anything that passed near it as well.

The scientific mind of the Esper had little time to reflect on such a fascinating evolution and what might have caused it. The vines were now writhing at his feet, trying to engulf him and drag him forward. Obviously there was a central core to this conglomeration, and the vines were trying to take him straight into it. He could feel hundreds of the tiny orange barbs trying to prick him, and failing miserably against his tough skin.

Another loud warking call told Maduin that the center of the forest was exactly where he wanted to go. There was no way to simply walk into it, though. He would have to make a path and rush over it before more vines took the place of the ones he was about to destroy.

"Elphis, get ready, I'm going in!" Maduin said loudly, mustering his magical energies.

The directed tornado of freezing wind Maduin conjured was carefully aimed like a tunnel through the forest, and it required a surprising amount of effort to maintain such a specific shape. Sudden bursts of magic were easy, and even concentrated, sustained spells didn't need much thought, provided they were just large explosions or waves in all directions. Molding magic into exact paths and shapes, however, taxed the Esper's mind and body in an unexpected way. He would not be able to maintain this path for long.

The effect his icy path had on the foliage was equally unexpected. The extreme cold was abhorrent to the plants, and killed everything that it blasted through, as Maduin assumed it would. Around the path, though, he could see many of the orange-barbed vines slinking as close as the ice as it dared, and then...feeding off it.

"Just like the vaporites...," Maduin mused briefly, then he dashed towards the sound of the chocobo. Obviously these creatures fed on magic, which meant they were likely aberrations born from the increase in ambient magic, just like the gaseous vaporites. But far more deadly.

"Kumiro!" Maduin shouted as the memories of Narsillian mountains came back to him. "Don't let the vines get to you! They feed on magic, like the vaporites."

"Pu...," Kumiro said anxiously, his eyes scrunched tighter than usual with concentration.

Somehow the moogle could maintain limited control over the vines, and had been able to dissuade them from touching either him or Elphis. Unfortunately, Maduin was far too big a magical target for the vines and the moogle's small influence was not enough to convince them to ignore the mighty Esper as well. Maduin would have to fend for himself, and as he saw the quickly vanishing path of ice just behind him, he knew the vines would try twice as hard to capture him now that they knew the vast magical feast before them.

Soon, the source of the warking came into view, and Maduin could see a struggle of dire proportions taking place at the heart of the evil forest. Servais and his chocobo were fighting tooth and beak for their survival, and to Maduin's surprise, giving a good account of themselves. There was only one other human Maduin had ever seen fight like this grey-haired man, and that was a ginger-haired woman with the eyes of a killer and dancing blades of death. As he watched the two fight, any doubts that he was watching another Stradivari in action vanished.

The heart of the forest Servais found himself against was nothing but one great ball of dark green fuzz, like mold, a dozen feet across. The mold ball hung from about a dozen thick vines that pulsed dark green, and stretched off in all directions into the forest. It looked like a giant, spongy brain, and as Maduin watched the action, he was convinced that was exactly what it was. A giant plant brain, controlling the squirming masses of once harmless vines that filled the rest of the forest, and perhaps all other plant life in the forest. And at the moment, the full anger of this land was directed at Servais.

The man fought alongside his chocobo as one force. His back was always to the chocobo, and his front always towards the giant brain. The chocobo fought in a way Maduin had never suspected the regular, yellow birds he had seen could. Its immense size and strength kept the vines from wrapping around it sufficiently to stop its rampage. The claws and lethal beak did the rest, shredding any vines that attempted to encircle the two. Every once in a while one of the thousand vines would gain a brief advantage, but the chocobo would simply let loose a wild cry and fly into the air. Servais, hearing the signal, would be on his steed's back in a flash, and the two would rocket out of the range of the reaching tentacle. And then they would slam into the soft forest bed again, trampling whatever mindless thing was beneath them.

Servais himself was more than a match for the vines, and like the Lady Blunt, he wielded daggers with fatal efficiency. Unlike the Lady, Servais fought hand-to-hand, instead of throwing them. His daggers were much larger and more ornate, being shaped like golden X's with a single haft intersecting the cross. These dual crossblades were deadly effective in the hands of a master, and Servais was definitely a master. Nothing was able to approach him without being diced into pieces by a flurry of perfectly timed slashes. The odd multi-bladed shape of the daggers allowed him to cut multiple parts of the encroaching vines with a single strike. More than once in the few moments Maduin watched before joining, he saw Servais swipe just one time at three or four oncoming vines, only to watch the entire mass fall to bits at the man's feet a second later.

Chagrined, Maduin wondered if this master hunter even needed his help. As before with the rock, the man noted his presence immediately, and put to rest any doubt that the Esper was needed.

"Maduin!" the man called out over the din of battle, slicing two more vines inches from his throat as he struggled to speak. "Get over here and make some room! The Paraladia are gathering from the whole forest, and I won't be able to fend them off much longer!"

"Kweh!" Servais's chocobo called out loud and clear, but this time the war cry sounded desperate. It was fighting with every ounce of energy it had, but the vines were squeezing more and more life out of it with each rush.

Maduin turned to Elphis and Kumiro, speaking quickly. "The both of you, stay here, and don't attract any attention. Kumiro keep her safe."

Kumiro nodded and grabbed Elphis with his little claws, hovering the both of them a foot above the writhing mass at their feet. "Kupo...hurry!"

As the magical energy of Maduin entered the clearing, the flow of the sea of green changed. Sensing a real feast for their newfound magical appetites, the vines stopped attacking Servais, and the entire forest bent its voracious efforts on the Esper that had walked right into its waiting jaws.

"Seems to like you, friend!" Servais called out, his strong voice showing no signs of fear. As Maduin approached, he could see a smile on the man's face almost identical to the one he had seen on the Lady Blunt's as she pelted Cerberus with her knives.

Love of battle must be a trait common to all Stradivari, Maduin thought grimly. Perhaps that was the mindset necessary to stand up to the forces of this world and make a real difference. Perhaps Maduin's peace-loving reluctance to fight was wrong after all?

"Hey, snap to, and keep these Paraladia busy while I go after the big one at the center!" Servais shouted, mounting his chocobo.

"Right," Maduin said, grabbing a clump of vines, crushing them in his bare hands, and setting to work. The stench of the vile blood filled his nostrils, and he wanted to gag. Where the battle had been at its thickest, there was at least a foot of green liquid clogging the entire forest floor. The sea of grime made the area look distinctly like a swamp, with the tentacles rising up like relentless sea monsters, threatening to pull them all under.

Even as he fought to save Servais, and himself, Maduin's only thoughts were of Elphis, being sucked down into this mire. He glanced back at her, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Kumiro's white fur standing out against the waving vines. It was an odd sight. Despite their furious twitching back and forth, none of them actually tried to grab either Kumiro or Elphis. The moogle was a small, furry island of peace floating in the total chaos of the awakened forest.

Several minutes went by where Maduin battled with the vines, and Servais struggled ineffectually to pierce the hard shell of the plant brain. The darker vines that held up the brain were as hard as steel, and his crossblades had little effect on them. The brain itself was more vulnerable, but no matter how fast the man hacked at the light green vines on its surface, more vines would rise from the forest to repair the damage. And more would come to try and bring Maduin down as well. They were holding their own...but nothing more.

"Servais! We can't do this forever, we have to escape!" Maduin called out hopelessly.

"Never! I must have a sample of this plant brain!" Servais yelled out in a voice slightly more unsteady than before. There was no fear still, but he was in a frenzy, and his hunter's blood was burning with the excitement of an unknown quarry.

Maduin watched as Servais stopped hacking and pulled out his silver, double-barreled rifle. The breathing room Maduin's presence had made allowed him to attempt a point blank shot.

"Don't you see? I must find out what is inside this mass of Paraladia!" the man cried out in joy, obsessed. "You see the darker vines holding it all up? Those are part of the real creature. The don't seem to even be a pure plant, but some sort of fusion of plant, animal and fungus! And they're tough as a behemoth's hide! I must have a sample of their source!"

While he prattled on in his excitement, he leveled his powerful gun at the malodorous sphere and fired a full double blast. The sound was terrific, briefly silencing the forest and halting all movement of vines. When the gun smoke cleared, there was a gruesome hole several feet wide penetrating all the way to the hidden center of the globe.

"Look at that! Servais cried, ecstatic. "Do you see it! It's a mouth! A bestial mouth with teeth! Amazing..."

Without thinking, Servais directed his chocobo closer while the forest lay still at the shock of his gun's wound. Indeed, there was an enormous, filthy mouth exposed where Servais had fired, and its long, needle-like teeth were grinding with the fury of a mind completely foreign to this world. Maduin had never seen anything so grotesque as that mouth, staring out of the plant brain like a giant, malignant eye.

Servais joy was only heightened at the weird secret inside the plant barrier, and he dived in for a closer look. Just as he was about to reach out and grab at one of the small whisker-like appendages that sprouted from around the mouth like a beard, a noxious cloud of green gas vomited from the alien mouth, obscuring both the hunter and his chocobo. The smell was quite possibly the worst thing Maduin had ever endured, and he felt himself growing dizzy as its fumes washed over him

"My god!" was all Maduin heard Servais say, weakly, from inside the giant cloud, and then all was silent again.

"Maydune!" Elphis screamed from behind him, her voice muffled and nasal as she wrapped her arms around her face to avoid the cloying stink that filled the area.

Maduin whipped his head around to see why Elphis had cried out, but there was only green before his eyes. Dark green.

A thick tentacle had detached itself from the forest and swung wildly from the plant brain, colliding with Maduin like a falling tree. The giant Esper fell, and before he could recover, the mass of vines had crawled over every inch of his body, sealing him in a cocoon from which there was no escape.

Elphis's scream echoed through the clearing again, but this time Maduin barely heard it. His head was swathed in greedy feelers, trying to drain him of all his magical power. And they were managing quite well, despite not being able to pierce his flesh with their orange barbs. They could still crawl inside his ears, his nose, his mouth...it was an unspeakable way to die. Maduin tried with all his supposed newfound strength to break free. His struggling only gave off more magic for the plants to feed off, though. He had little time to escape, and he knew Servais must be in even worse condition. But perhaps they were only interested in him, and perhaps his sacrifice would allow everyone else to escape...

"Elphis! Servais!" Maduin called out in his roaring Esper voice, barely audible through the vines filling his mouth like a gag. "Get out of here while they are focused on me! It's the only chance we have!"

"Never!" was Elphis's only reply. Servais remained silent, in unknown condition at the fume-covered foot of the plant brain.

"Dammit, listen to me!" Maduin yelled angrily, his voice a frightening and monstrous tone Elphis had never heard before. "Kumiro! Get her out of here, NOW!"

"Puu...," the moogle moaned softly, grabbing Elphis tighter and fluttering his wings furiously. It would take all the creature's strength, but the girl was small, and he could do it. Abandoning another friend was something the little moogle never wanted to do again, but he had the girl to worry about, and she must survive.

"Ku-PO!" Kumiro squeaked in angry surprise. Elphis had bitten him!

The girl dropped lightly to the forest floor, Kumiro's influence still protecting her from the ever-questing vines. But as Kumiro shrieked in surprise his concentration was broken, and the vines were coming alive to their presence fast.

Everything happened at once. Maduin, completely hidden in a tomb of green, was being lifted off the forest floor and guided to the rapacious maw at the center of the plant brain. Servais, too, was in the clutches of one dark green tentacle, ready to be dropped into the mouth. Both seemed unconscious, and showed no signs of struggle. The black chocobo, too, was held in place by two tentacles, ready to be devoured next. The magical Kumiro had been swatted out of the air as soon as his influence over the creatures was snapped, and he was being conveyed to the forest master by his willing Paraladia slaves along with the rest. Only Elphis remained, the least tantalizing of the group. But that would not last for long.

With a wailing shriek, the little blind girl rushed towards where she could hear Maduin being dragged inwards. There was nothing she could do, but that didn't matter. She had never given up hope on the harsh streets of Antissa, and she would not give up hope here. As long as she breathed, she would fight to survive. It was all she knew how to do.

A searching vine latched on to her foot, and she stumbled face-first into the disgusting slime. It made her wretch, and she felt like she would die from the smell, but that didn't matter. She clawed her way forward, ripping into vines blindly, using her little nails, her little teeth, every weapon she had left. The vines slowly covered her, heedless of her feeble efforts. There was nothing left for her to do but to go down fighting for her last breath like a wild animal, but that didn't matter to the little girl with the heart of a giant.

_The heart of a giant, indeed. Call out my name, little one. Do not forget you have one friend left!_

Elphis heard the call from inside her mind. She was confused, since she was now completely entombed by the forest, and could not hear anything outside her green prison. She was wholly blind to the world. But the voice was still there, calling out to her urgently across an abyss she could only dimly comprehend.

_Call me! You must!_

She could feel the orange-tipped barbs sinking into her, and she felt their poisonous touch weakening her senses. Her head felt thick, and her thoughts were fading. The voice began to recede, farther and farther into the back of her mind. There was a name, a name she must call...but what was it?

_Little one, you know my name. Summon my power now, or we will all be consumed! I can feel their draining touch, even here... I do not know what it means to die truly, but for the first time in my existence, I fear oblivion. Call me!_

It was on the tip of her tongue. She couldn't remember...but she must. Nothing else mattered but the name. The magic word that she somehow knew would save them all. If she could just remember!

A single black moment of total unawareness stole over her, and for that moment, she felt the cold reach of death in her unconsciousness. The brief dip into the waters of oblivion was like a lightning bolt to her still-beating heart. Her body surged with the desire to live, and her mind cleared for one shining second. It was only a second, but it was enough to say one word. One single word.

"TITAN!"


	100. Red Tide, 'Anger of the Land'

~x~

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**Part 11.4 - Anger of the Land**

The ground quaked, but there was no one to feel it. The earth roared, but no one heard its cry. When the trees of the forest parted and a giant that dwarfed even Maduin raged into the vile clearing, there were no eyes to see it. Elphis had summoned this mighty Esper Herald from another world, but she was no longer conscious to see the terrible effect of her call.

The giant among giants looked like a human clad with only a loincloth, his vast, naked chest rippling with thinly suppressed rage. The only outstanding feature that set him apart from mankind was his impossible size and heavily muscled frame. Standing as tall as the tallest trees of the evil forest, Titan shook with all the fury of Gaeus himself. But, this was not Titan.

This vision was but a memory, created by the magicite shard still held tightly in Elphis's hands. Titan was gone from the world of man truly, and nothing could bring his mighty form back to the mortal plane. The phantom being was real enough, though, and even a shadow of the Herald of Gaeus was more than a match for the crawling things that now stood before its feet.

With a bellow that shook the earth, Titan surged through the clearing, paying no heed to the crawling Paraladia vines swarming over him. They grabbed and stung, trying to pull the giant down with sheer numbers. They formed into thick cords to block his path. They stretched across his feet to trip him. Nothing stood in the Esper's way, all being ripped apart by the strength of the planet itself.

Soon, the summoned Titan found himself face to face with the nightmarish brain at the center of the hellish den of weeds. Fear was not a concept the plant brain was capable of, or it might have cringed back inside its protective shell of Paraladia and tried to escape the new intruder who had broken through all its advances with no effort at all. The thick tentacles whipped about ineffectually, trying to take hold of the brazen giant. No matter how hard they pulled, how tightly they squeezed, they could not move the mountain of flesh looming over them.

The mouth yawned once more, threatening to expel its horrible breath. Titan's face darkened, and with another great roar, he slammed his fists into the earth, heedless of the mire that covered the forest surface. The impact set the ground shaking like a rung bell, sending all the squirming vines tumbling back on top of themselves, as well as shaking the plant brain from its hanging perch among the trees. The shock of the blow dislodged both the unconscious Servais and his chocobo from its slimy grip.

Titan's assault was not finished, however, and another blow to the forest floor opened a fissure that split the clearing in two. Into the widening mouth of the Earth the disgusting mouth fell, the devourer itself devoured. No eyes saw the true form of the beast as it sank, exposed, into the deep underground. Only the ghost of Titan bared witness to the hideous mouth as it fell, for a mouth was all the creature was. A devilish green mouth surrounded by frantically grasping tentacles on all sides. The abomination vanished back into the darkness from whence it had crawled, and then the chasm snapped shut with a vengeance, sealing the monster away forever.

Without the plant brain to guide the Paraladia vines, they shrank back into the dark shadows they normally inhabited, tamed by the fury of Titan. The phantom Esper himself stood for a moment, watching the crack where the horrible mastermind of this perversion of Gaeus's bounty once reigned. Satisfied that the battle was over, the Esper walked with quaking step over to Elphis and Kumiro and picked both up in the palm of his enormous hand. With his other hand he snapped the stubbornly defiant vines that still entangled Maduin, and lifted him off the ground as easily as he had the tiny Elphis. He piled the three next to Servais and his chocobo, then stood silent and still, like a mountain.

There were no words, for this magic-born afterimage could not speak, nor even act beyond the command given to it upon summoning. But was that a smile on his craggy lips? Was it pleased with the events that had just taken place? No man saw the face of Titan to judge its character in that moment, and when the group came to, they were alone in the woods.

While Titan raged and Maduin slept in his thorny prison, the Esper dreamed.

The dreamscape was the same as always. Empty, colorless plains of white, stretching to eternity. Any moment Maduin knew he would see the form of Cassandra rise up, then crumble away in agony. He knew he faced physical death in the real world, where his unconscious body lay helpless. When he died, would this dream world be his new home? A nightmare there was no waking from? Titan's words through the mouth of Elphis seemed to indicate such was the fate for all Espers who left the mortal plane. A cruel joke by trickster gods, indeed.

Maduin did not have long to wait in the timeless void of his dreamworld before the familiar black-robed shape of Cassandra materialized. He watched as her face faded away to a gleaming skull, her gentle, youthful features replaced by the harsh grimace of death. As he watched with the same feelings of horror and guilt as he had the first time this image had been forced on him, something happened that had never happened before. The skull moved with the spark of life, the cold winds ceased, and the robe re-materialized onto the skeletal frame. What was this new torture his mind had conjured?

In a moment, Cassandra was once again standing before him, whole and healthy. There was a smile on her face he had never seen before. It was completely unlike the smile of a young girl. It was a sharp, knowing smile, and the eyes that now looked at Maduin were piercingly alive with some unknown intent.

"Hello Dune," Cassandra said in an old voice as unlike the girl's as the knowing smile.

"Cassandra...?" Maduin stammered, never having been spoken to in this place. This was his world, and everything in it was a part of him...right?

Cassandra looked around the empty world and scoffed. "Not much of an imagination you have, Dune."

Maduin didn't know what to make of this new act in the drama of his subconscious world. "Is that really you, Cassandra?"

The girl looked at him again, her eyes peering directly into his soul. "What do you think? Am I Cassandra? Does it matter if I am?" The smile never left her face.

Maduin didn't know what to say to that, but he suspected the real Cassandra would never act the way this ghost was acting. It was Cassandra's image, but it couldn't possibly be the same vibrant, innocent girl from his memories.

"Someday you'll know me, Dune. Everyone knows me sooner or later," the girl smirked and gave Maduin's giant body a measuring stare. "Even the Dreaming Awake come to me in their own time. I am patient, if nothing else."

"Are you...a god?" Maduin asked, beginning to suspect he was being visited by one of the unseen Masters of the world once again. He remembered his visitations by Gaeus, the Master of Earth, in the desert, Elia, the Maiden of Water, at the bottom of the ocean, and of course Doom and his icy prison.

Now Cassandra laughed loudly. "Always the scientist, always trying to figure everything out. I like that. Keep asking questions, Dune. I like that about you."

Maduin was a little unsettled by the laugh, and the personal way the girl acted with him. And he was frustrated that the thing had not answered any of his questions yet. "Are you going to tell me why you're here? What do you want? I thought the gods had decided to leave me alone."

Another un-Cassandra like laugh erupted from the girl. "I don't usually do what people want. That includes the gods. Altimus has no power over me, and I do as I please, as I always have and always will." Cassandra stopped laughing and for a brief moment there was a serious look on her face. "If I want to drop in and say hello to Elia's pet, then I can and will."

"Elia? What...," Maduin started to ask, but was stopped by a low rumbling sound. It started off in the distance, and then closed in on him from all sides. It felt like an earthquake, but that was impossible here where there was no earth.

"Gaeus is angry," Cassandra said without any apparent concern. "His anger reaches even here. When he flexes his muscles, even the heavens themselves quake." Cassandra resumed smiling as she spoke. "But! That doesn't mean anything to me, or to you."

"What is it that you want?" Maduin said, recovering himself. The quaking had subsided to a low hum, fading outwards just as it had faded inwards before. "Are you a messenger of Elia's?"

"I am my own messenger. Elia and I share the same rebellious spirit, but she is not my master any more than Altimus. Come now, Dune, can't I just stop in for a visit every now and then?"

"Am I going to die? Is that why you're here?" Maduin was beginning to suspect things were not going well in the waking world, and that he might very well be dying, or dead already. How would he know from here?

"Ahaha!" Cassandra doubled over in laughter at Maduin's questions. "What a silly question! I thought better of you! Everyone dies, Dune."

"Am I going to die now?" Maduin repeated. He was tiring of this phantom's flippant attitude.

"No," Cassandra said unexpectedly. "There, are you happy?"

"Then leave me so I can wake from this nightmare."

"Oho! So you are my master now? You have much to learn about the way the world works. I could take you right now, and there is nothing you or any force in this universe could do to stop me."

Cassandra was not smiling now, and Maduin could feel a foreign coldness growing inside his body, reaching out, threatening to grab his heart and squeeze it until it burst.

"Do you feel that? That is the darkness in your soul, reaching out to me. I could snatch it up, suffocate you with your own despair, your own unbalanced chaos. That is my power, and it is a power no man, beast, or god can contend with. But-!"

Maduin felt the dark pull vanish instantly, and he almost toppled over with the relief of the unseen pressure. There was no doubt in his mind - he had felt the cold fingers of death on his soul, and this strange Cassandra thing before him knew it.

"Not today," Cassandra said sweetly, smiling again. "You have much to do for us, yet." Cassandra put one slender finger to her lips, as if imparting a secret. "The gods may say that you are free from their power, but they lie. We all are liars and schemers, that is one thing you must learn about us, Dune. Altimus has his plans for this world, beginning to end. As do I. In time you'll learn what those plans are if you survive long enough. And then you will have to make a choice."

"I would choose to follow Altimus long before I choose to follow you," Maduin said defiantly. He knew little of the Holy Master, but he felt safe in assuming the god was not evil, or at least not as unpleasantly disturbing as this thing.

Cassandra's smile widened, and looked about to laugh again, but this time she held her peace. "How little you know of this world. Good and evil have no place in the realm of the gods. The Balance is all that matters. Altimus is on one side, I am on the other, and the mortal world is between. Not all is as it seems, and if you plan on fighting, it would be best to know what side you're really on."

"I do not want to fight. I am not a tool of the gods anymore."

Now Cassandra couldn't help herself, and laughed so hard that tears fell from her eyes. "A weapon that does not wish to fight? Learn your place, Esper. You _will_ fight. It is what you were made for, what your body craves. There is no escaping destiny. You will fight. It is just a matter of knowing why you fight, and who you will fight for."

"And you want me to fight for you? Is that why you're here?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm just here to get a look at you. I do not beg for help. You will choose for yourself in your own good time who and what you will fight for." Cassandra stepped back, lowering her voice. "But! You _will_ fight."

"We'll see about that." Maduin was done with this ghoul who claimed to be a god. "Now leave me. I need to protect my friends, and as long as you're bothering me, I can't do that."

"Oho!" Cassandra cooed, stepping further away. "Chemosh certainly had the right of you. Careful you don't let that pride get away from you. The results could be quite...entertaining, ha!"

Cassandra faded away completely, her thin smile leering at Maduin to the last. Maduin was alone again, and he had never been more relieved by his solitude.

In a flash Maduin felt himself being pulled out of his dreamworld and back into reality. The white blurred into the soft greens and dull browns of the forest, now calm and peaceful. Beside him were Servais, his chocobo, and Elphis and Kumiro. Everyone seemed to be safe, but what had happened?

A look around the clearing told Maduin the battle was definitely over. There were no signs of the creeping vines except on the edges of the darkest shadows. Where the massive plant brain had been was only a large crack, tightly shut. It looked like a gruesome scar in the earth, just beginning to heal. There was no vegetation where the crack was visible, just one lone green tentacle, severed savagely from the rest of the creature. Something had happened here while he was unconscious, but what?

Servais was waking up now, as was his chocobo. They both looked rather green, and Servais had his hands on his stomach.

"Ugh, I feel like I ate something rotten. Whatever that breath was, it was potent, that's for sure. I'm pretty sure I'm poisoned, and Sable doesn't look too good, either."

"Why did you insist on putting yourself in danger like that?" Maduin said, still fuming from his encounter with the Cassandra-thing . "We might have been able to win if you hadn't stuck your head in its mouth."

"For a sample of course," Servais replied nonchalantly. "I am hunter, and I have never seen anything like that thing before. I think I will call it a Malboro. A fitting name, don't you think?"

Maduin only looked at the man in disbelief. He was a scientist, and he knew the thrill of discovery could be intoxicating, but this man was a fanatic.

Servais seemed to read the Esper's thoughts. "You think I'm crazy for putting myself at risk like that. Perhaps I am. You have to understand, this is my passion, my life. I hunt, and I collect. And what I collect, others study. This is how progress is made. Look!"

Servais stood up shakily, and walked over to the lifeless tentacle, lifting it in his hands and weighing it like a rare gem. "Now this will make a fine sample! A Malboro tentacle! Based on that breath of his, there must be some fascinating chemicals flowing through its veins. Greffuhle will love this."

Maduin didn't know what to make of the man. He seemed a good sort, but reckless. Servais continued to survey the area, picking up bits and pieces of the carnage with glee.

"Look at this! The paralyzing fluids in these Paraladia stems will make great wine," Servais called out, talking to himself more than his companions. As he spoke, he took a quick pull from one of the dead Paraladia, sucking out its juices. "You know, they call these things Over Grunks in Zwill. Any more than a sip of this stuff undistilled and you'll be keeled over just like we were a moment ago, heh."

"Careful!" Maduin shouted out, appalled as he watched the brazen hunter drink the vile green ooze. "That might be poisonous!"

"Poisonous?" Servais laughed, placing the Paraladia vine in his ever-ready pouch. "Only if you drink too much. A quick sip is good for the body, gets your blood flowing faster. It will get rid of the Malboro poison quicker," as he said this, he fed a small piece to his chocobo, and it did seem as if the green left its face a bit. "See? No harm. You just have to know what you're doing."

"Like when you tried to peer into that Malboro's mouth?" Maduin retorted. He had to admit, he was impressed with the man's nature lore, but he still thought he was reckless.

"Now, now. Forgive an old man his weaknesses. We're still alive, aren't we? I'm not sure what happened, but it looks like we won. Perhaps you destroyed the creature just before you lost consciousness? And besides, I have my sample of the beast here. I bet you could make a helluva drink from this thing! Malboro Wine...who knows? It might be the next big thing in Zwill. Dragonetti, at least, would be brave enough to try it!"

"Don't try it," Maduin warned as Servais rambled. He hoped Servais wouldn't be crazy enough to drink from the Malboro tentacle next!

"Hah!" Servais laughed, slapping his knee. "I'm not that crazy. I've hunted Paraladia for years. I know their make and mien as well as any beast." Now he looked at where the Malboro had been, only a mound of dirt with a slithering crack across it. "But that...I have never seen anything like that before, and I have been over, under, and through these woods more times than I could count. No...that creature was not here a month ago. I'd swear it."

"Wild magic is flowing over this world, warping regular plants and animals into monsters, and spawning all sorts of impossible creations from the very earth and air," Maduin explained. He was not really sure of this theory himself, but the more he thought about it, and the more he saw, the more he was convinced that the events atop Crescent Mountain were having larger implications than he had at first assumed. Something else was unleashed that day when the Ultima Gate was destroyed and he and the other Heralds had been let loose on the world. Something that should never have been.

"Magic, eh?" Servais said, less surprised than Maduin would have thought. "I wouldn't believe it normally, but looking at you, and looking at this place. Yes, I believe it. I've been around the world enough to know there are strange things lurking in the shadows, just waiting for the chance to thrive," Servais sat down on stump, rubbing his clean-shaven chin in deep thought. "Magic, though...that's a new one. I will have to be more careful. I was confident of my knowledge of every living in this world...but obviously with creatures being spawned left and right that I have no experience with, and that have the power of magic on their side...hmm...these coming times will be hard times for hunters, I think."

"They will be hard times for everyone, I'm afraid," Maduin said, sitting down on the ground cross-legged. "There's a war coming, and these magical monstrosities will be the least of our worries."

Servais perked up at that. "A war, you say? Explain yourself, man. It's my business to know the people of this world as well as the beasts. If any nation was trying to overstep their boundaries, I would know it."

"This is no mere border dispute. The gods that created me created others like me, and I assume are still creating even more as we speak. They are readying themselves for a global war with Esper armies led by powerful Esper Herald generals. No one will be safe from their reach. Narsille fell quickly to their power. What other nation could stand up to power like that?"

Maduin's voice was sad as he told his story. He explained about everything that had happened to him since he became an Esper. Servais listened silently, keeping his thoughts to himself. When Maduin got to the part about Antissa and Cerberus, and the Lady Blunt, Servais looked up, acute awareness in his eyes. Maduin saw his glance, and his suspicion that this man was a Stradivari like the Lady Blunt was renewed. He stopped his story and put his theory to the test.

"Servais, are you a member of the Stradivari?"

Servais said nothing for a moment, looking carefully at his newfound companion. "It's best if I don't answer that, friend. The less you know, the better. I know the Lady Blunt, though. You've got the wrong of her, I think. She is a very efficient mercenary, I'll give you that. But you have to understand something about her before you judge her."

"She threatened both me and Elphis, merely for information. I think I understand her quite well."

"No, you don't. She is looking for her partner, the man you knew as Agent Phantom. When a Stradivari is in danger, the other members will stop at nothing to rescue them. Or avenge them, as the case may be. If she thought for a second you had anything to do with Lord Dunn-Raven's death, your life would be forfeit. Esper, child, it doesn't matter. You would not be sitting here right now chatting with me. We-they are a very close-knit organization. The Stradivari are a family...and the Lady Blunt was especially close to Lord Dunn-Raven. If it was your Elphis that was in a similar predicament, what would you do?"

Maduin listened to Servais's words, but his opinion of the Lady Blunt did not change. He knew he would do anything for Elphis, but he hoped he never had to stoop to the level of a cold-blooded killer to protect her. "I would do what I have to, I guess. But I do not like that woman, and I certainly do not trust her. Are all the Stradivari like her?"

Servais couldn't help but laugh at Maduin's assessment of the Lady. It was a fair one. "There are not many who can appreciate the Lady Blunt's...er, abrasive personality. But you can trust her to her word, whatever that word may be. If she has sworn to kill you, she will kill you, even if it costs her own life. If she has sworn to defend you, she will do so to the death. She can be your worst enemy or your greatest ally."

"And what is she to you?" Maduin asked, hoping to get the man to fully admit his ties to the Stradivari.

"I trust her. That is all you need to know," the hunter said with a sly wink. "I don't ask that you trust her, but don't judge her too harshly. She has never been one to make good first impressions." Servais got up and walked over to his chocobo, stretching his back and arms. "Now then! I feel a little better, and I think it would be a good idea to camp here for the night. The Paraladia are not aggressive by nature, and without that Malboro mastermind, they shouldn't give us any trouble. If I light a fire, we will be perfectly safe. They hate flames."

"Maybe you're right. I am feeling quite exhausted after that fight. Those things drained much of my magical store of energy."

"Yes, they did seem to like you, didn't they? This magic stuff will definitely take some getting used to. Hey! Look! Your moogle friend is coming to."

As the two talked, Kumiro slowly twitched, then fluttered his wings. In a moment he was up and flying around, as if the battle was still raging.

"Kupopopo!" Kumiro squealed, confused and worried. The last he had seen, Elphis had fallen from his grip and he was powerless to save her.

"Calm down, Kumiro," Maduin said. "The battle's over. We won, somehow. Elphis is fine, but she is completely exhausted. She's sleeping, and safe."

But was she sleeping? Maduin didn't know. Her breathing was even and strong, and she seemed deep asleep. Her face looked paler than usual, as if she had been drained of energy. Had the Paraladia gotten to her, too? Whatever had happened, they all seemed safe for the moment, and now was a good chance to regroup and gather their strength before reaching Zwill.

"Don't worry about the girl," Servais said. "I checked her out and she's alright. Just asleep. We'll find out what happened when she wakes up, I'm sure."

"I hope so," Maduin replied, uncertainly. He remember the trembling earth from his dreams, and wondered just what had really happened while he was having his chat with the false Cassandra.

"Po! Po, po!" Kumiro yelled excitedly, pointing his little clawed finger at something on the ground behind them.

Servais stopped making the fire, and looked in the direction the moogle was indicating. Maduin took his eyes off of Elphis to see what the moogle wanted as well.

"By Gaeus's beard, look at that!" Servais said, getting up and walking over to the spot Kumiro was so fixated on.

Leading out of the forest, and almost right up to where they were camped was a trail of enormous footprints. There were no footprints leading away from the clearing though, as if whatever had made them had vanished. Or was still here.

"Maduin...those aren't yours are they?" Servais said, a rare note of concern in his voice. He didn't like being this far out of his experience, and there was no doubt. Those massive depressions were way out of his experience.

"Definitely not...," Maduin trailed off, stepping onto one of the wide tracks. His foot barely even covered a quarter of the space inside the track. Whatever had made these was as much a giant to Maduin as Maduin was to a normal human. And yet the footprint was plainly that of a human. It was unbelievable.

"What is going on here?" Maduin mused.

"It's like Gaeus himself was here, protecting us. Is that possible, Maduin? You said the gods are real, and I'm afraid there seems to be no other explanation. No beast I could ever dream of could make a mark like that on the land." Servais was awed at the spectacle before him. Magic was real, alright, and it had made its mark on this place. Servais rubbed his forehead and turned back to the fire, defeated by the impossible sight at his feet. He thought he knew everything about every creature that walked this earth, but there was no accounting for the being that had walked among them while they slept.

"I don't know...I really don't know...," Maduin said, as awed as Servais. Something, some force greater even than Maduin had saved them. Were the gods protecting him? Were they still planning, still trying to guide him to some unknown goal? What if Cassandra was right? Who could he really trust in this world? He trusted himself, and he trusted Elphis, and if he could free them, he would trust his friends as well. Beyond that...Maduin just wasn't sure. The Fallen Masters, the true Masters, the other Espers, and now the Stradivari...there were too many forces at work on this world, pulling from a thousand different directions at once. Trying to find his place in this maelstrom of desires and dreams made Maduin dizzy. All he wanted was peace. Was that an impossible dream, even for the gods?

"Thanks Titan," Elphis mumbled in her sleep, clutching the magicite tightly, like a crystalline stuffed animal. There was a peaceful smile on her lips as her sightless eyes fluttered beneath their lids.

"Elphis...?" Maduin whispered, her brief statement interrupting his thoughts. "Hmm...just what are you dreaming about, I wonder?"

The tired Esper did not know, but he hoped her dreams were more pleasant than his.


	101. Red Tide, 'The Blades of Zwill'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**Part 11.5 - The Blades of Zwill**

When the sun rose, Maduin and Servais were already awake and ready to make for Zwill. Elphis still slept soundly, cuddled in Maduin's huge arm. Kumiro had chosen to ride on Sable, behind Servais, much to his chagrin.

"Sable doesn't usually let anyone but me ride her," Servais said.

"Kumiro has a way with other animals, and I suspect he much prefers a soft saddle to my hard shoulder."

The group headed away from the dark forest and towards the sloping plain where the city of Zwill awaited them. A few miles from the forest, and the city began to appear over the horizon, with nothing but the open sea beyond it. Already, Maduin could see people traveling along the main road, which Maduin had carefully avoided until now, and many small camps alongside it. More Narsillian refugees, no doubt.

"I think this is where we part ways," Maduin said in a low voice. "There are too many people, and I don't want to cause a panic."

Servais looked at him and nodded. "I agree, but let me at least travel ahead and warn Ole Bull that you're coming. You may be able to hide from the common folk, but you can't hide from Ole Bull and his guards," Servais smiled. "I suspect they already know you're coming, but it never hurts to show the proper courtesies."

Maduin agreed. "Stay safe. If what you've said of the city is true, there could be others of my kind lurking nearby...or worse." Maduin didn't need to remind the hunter of their recent encounter with the monstrous Malboro, as vicious and unpredictable as any Esper.

"All the more reason to clear the way for you, then." Servais gave Maduin a short salute, then turned to the moogle at his back. "And as for you, little one, this is where you get off."

"Pah!" Kumiro huffed, and fluttered onto his usual perch beside Maduin's right shoulder spike.

With his usual burst of dust and feathers, Servais exploded straight towards Zwill. He didn't dare fly so close to the city, for fear of a stray arrow shooting him down. Maduin was amazed to see that the giant black bird ran even faster than it flew, and he knew he'd be hard pressed to keep up with it even if he resorted to his magical reserves. Both hunter and mount were impressive sights.

As Maduin's gaze followed the chocobo he noticed for the first time the towering walls surrounding Zwill. It was a port city and center of commerce, but it was isolated and far from any other major nation. Because of this, it needed a proper defense against wild beasts and marauding brigands. The stone wall was certainly nothing compared to Narsille's great mythril gates, but it dwarfed Antissa's feeble pile of rocks. The hellhound Cerberus would not have ransacked Zwill so easily.

Servais had warned Maduin not to use the main gates, but to try and make for one of the side gates. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he quickly darted away from the main road, gradually veering away from the main gates as he approached. There were plenty of large boulders strewn across the plain, bleached white from centuries of exposure, and Maduin had no trouble keeping himself hidden as he made his circuitous path to the side of the city.

One oddity that Maduin saw repeated atop every gate and watch tower was a large golden cross formed from multiple blades crossing each other. The five-pointed shape and ruddy-gold color of the cross reminded Maduin of Servais's twin daggers. It seemed the crossblade was the symbol of the city. Whether it was a religious symbol or a coat-of-arms, he had no idea. It was certainly not a symbol used by the Order of the Pearl.

The main reason Maduin was stopping at Zwill at all was the hope that he could find someone of the Order who knew the secrets of the Nacre. He was convinced the Nacre was the key to releasing his friends from the control of the Fallen Masters, and that if the gods wouldn't help him, then the only recourse he had were the remnants of the now leaderless Order. The Order had started all this, and now he hoped they would be honor-bound to see it through to the end. They couldn't all be like Sade. Cassandra was proof of that.

Servais's rumors of Espers besieging the city was another strong reason for him to pay Zwill a visit. Although, without any means of freeing them, he would inevitably be forced to fight them, and he would not slay his friends and fellow Espers if he could avoid it. They may have been born to fight, as the Cassandra-thing had claimed in his dreamworld, but he would not be controlled, not by the gods and their plans, and not by so-called fate. Even if he was alone in his struggle, as he feared he was, he would walk the path of peace whenever possible.

Even Cerberus had fallen to a whim of fate and a twist of a horn, not by Maduin's intent. If Maduin could have, he would have tried to get Cerberus to see reason, but when he remembered the fiercely unrepentant glaze of the hound's dying eyes, he was convinced there was no saving the lost soul. Whatever man he had been as a human, it couldn't have been much better than his demonic Esper form.

No, Maduin would not fight his friends. The power of an Esper was too great, and it was far too easy for one Esper to kill another by accident,and destroy half a town in the process. If it was Bismark or Indie that appeared in Zwill, there was no way he could bring himself to fight them as he had Cerberus. But what if it was Leviathan? Or even Crusader? What then?

The only thing to do was to keep moving forward and meet this "Ole Bull" who was the mayor of Zwill. Only then would he have some answers. Only then would he know what it was he was throwing himself into.

And so Maduin plodded along like a wolf, sneaking around the city walls unseen until he reached a small gate barely large enough for his giant's frame. There were no guards here that he could see, and the weeds spreading between the stones in the road told Maduin this was not a road often traveled. The gate was shut, however. The golden crossblade of Zwill barred his path, each of the blades crossing each other at the middle, blocking the road into the city.

_I could break this barrier easily with magic, but that would not be the way to enter and expect a peaceful reception. Elphis could enter with Kumiro, like in the other settlements we've passed, but she is asleep, and I can't wake her..._

Maduin stood at the gate, wondering what he should do. Should he just knock? There was a bell next to the gate, but how much did the guards already know? Servais must have long since reached the inside of the city and told Ole Bull everything that had happened. But would this unknown man really let one of the very beasts that were likely plaguing his city pass unhindered?

"Ahem."

Maduin whirled around to face the sudden voice behind him. He had heard nothing, and saw no one. Not even Kumiro had detected anyone. _Who..._

"So we meet again, Esper."

Maduin was speechless for a moment, the shock of the person's appearance as unnerving as it was back in Antissa.

"You? What are you doing here?" Maduin said, tensing for a fight.

The woman that stood lazily just a few feet from him looked the same as she had in Antissa. Ginger-red hair and blood-red lips, and a sleek black gown with equally black heels. And, Maduin knew from experience, an armory's worth of lethal throwing daggers hidden under that slender guise.

"I'm your welcoming party, of course," the Lady Blunt said with a flick of her wrist. "They wanted to corroborate Servais's story, so they sent me to make sure you were who you said you were."

"And you will escort me into the city, without a, ah, scene?" Maduin did not trust the woman. Not since she had held a dagger to Elphis's throat.

"Of course, you idiot. The only one likely to make a scene here is you. But we won't be entering the city here, where a thousand eyes might see you. Might already have seen you."

"Then where?" Maduin asked. There were no other gates less traveled than this one.

"By boat, how else?" The Lady Blunt raised an eyebrow and turned her head to the west, where the smell of salt and the sound of gulls floated towards them on a chilly sea breeze. "Look, I don't have time to explain everything here. Just follow me."

Without a further word, the Lady turned on her heel and marched away from the gate and down towards the docks on the seaward side of the city. Maduin followed as he was told, but he still wasn't sure if he could trust the woman. Servais had said he trusted her, but could Maduin even trust Servais? He might not openly state it, but Maduin was sure Servais was a Stradivari like the Lady Blunt. And that meant he was a killer, too.

_How many men have you killed, Servais? Surely you don't only hunt beasts, _Maduin thought sadly.

When Maduin reached the stone docks of Zwill, seemingly endless in their ordered rows stretching for over a mile, he was duly impressed. There were more ships here than all of Narsille. True, they weren't the sleek Narsillian cruisers, but they were sturdy vessels one and all. And now that Narsille was gone, they were the most advanced ships on the planet by default.

He had heard the stories of Zwill's standing navy, stories claiming it was the greatest in the world, but never believed them. Few of the cloistered Narsillians ever believed there was anything better than their grand city outside those shimmering mythril gates. As Maduin watched the morning sun reflect off a thousand decks, he wondered if Narsille wasn't quite as perfect and glorious as he had been raised to believe.

One ship in particular stood out among the rest to Maduin's dazzled eyes. It wasn't larger, or more heavily armored. It bore no signs of cannon, and did not appear to be a warship at all. What it did bear was a beautiful woman carved into its prow, and the mark of a loving shipwright who cared more about the simple majesty and quiet grandeur of wood and cloth than metal and gunpowder. It was the ship of a true man of the sea. Maduin had only seen one ship like that.

"Could it be?" said Maduin as the Lady Blunt headed towards the strangely familiar ship. "Is that the Maiden of the Sea?"

The Lady's rough laugh rose over her bare shoulder as she strode down towards the southern edge of the docks. "The only Maiden of the Sea around here is that ship's captain. No, that is the Mother of Pearl."

"It looks exactly like Captain Bismark's Maiden...,"

"That is because they were built by the same person."

"The Captain claimed he built his ship himself, plank by plank and nail by nail." Maduin knew the story well. Bismark loved talking about his ship. He had never had a wife, never had a child. The sea was his lover, and the Maiden was his daughter. That was enough for the salty old captain, or so Maduin had always believed.

The Lady spared a pitying glance back at Maduin. "Your Captain doesn't like to talk about his past does he?"

That was certainly true. Maduin nodded suspiciously. It was unlikely this woman knew more about Captain Bismark than himself, and it offended him when she acted like she did. The old man was tight-lipped about his personal life, but Maduin was like a son to him. Or at least, Dune had been. Now, neither of them were who they once were.

"Hm. you think you know best, right?" The Lady turned her gaze back to the approaching ship. "Well...you probably do on most accounts of your captain. But when it comes to the these two ships, we know more than anyone."

"We?" Maduin frowned. "You mean your group, the Stradivari."

"Of course. The captain of the Mother of Pearl is one of us. She built the Mother of Pearl. Her and your captain together. And then she helped him built his vessel. A labor of love, you could say." The Lady laughed her little laugh.

"He never mentioned another ship, or a...woman."

"Did he ever mention the women of his past?" the Lady asked, as if she already knew the answer. "I never met the man, but from what Captain Delphino says, that wasn't his style."

"No, it wasn't. But...!"

"But what? Your precious Captain didn't spill his guts about every little heartbreak in his life to you, and now you're offended? Or what, you think I'm lying?"

Maduin could feel his blood burning as the woman spoke to him. He did not like the Lady Blunt, but she was right. Not once in all the years Maduin had known the Captain did he ever once mention anyone from his past. Maduin hadn't known that Captain Bismark was friends with Indie or Alex, hadn't even known who Jonah Levi was until fate had thrown them all together again. His father was the only person Bismark ever admitted to knowing, and even then it was Indie who told him the story of his father's death, not Bismark.

"No, you know I'm telling the truth. Your captain had a life beyond you, believe it or not. As he grew older he gave it up for the call of the ocean, but he was young once."

_Hard to believe._ Maduin couldn't help but grin at the thought of a young, love struck Captain. But, she was right. Everyone was young once, even Captain Bismark.

"But that doesn't matter now," the Lady said, abruptly turning on her heels to face Maduin. "We're wasting time talking about these things. Right now, you need to meet _my _Captain, and she will decide what to do with you until Ole Bull sees fit to drag his fat ass out of his mansion."

"Is this entire city run by the Stradivari?" Maduin wondered.

"This city is run by a faction of merchants, each representing various powers from various lands. Ole Bull is the mayor, but he holds little real political power in Zwill. Running nations openly is not the Stradivari way."

"No, you slip daggers into the backs of troublesome lords in the middle of the night, right?"

The Lady smiled, her red lips glistening a little too brightly in the sunlight. "If the price is right."

"You sicken me," Maduin said simply. It was a strange feeling. He loathed the Lady Blunt, but he had great respect for Servais. Both were Stradivari, but they were as different as night and day. What would this Ole Bull be like? Would he be a bloodthirsty killer like the Lady, or a gallant hunter like Servais? And what of this mysterious female captain? A woman strong enough to capture Captain Bismark's heart was no one Maduin wanted to anger.

"I would be worried if I didn't, Esper," the Lady answered, her smile unwavering. "A mind like mine, in a body like yours...," she fingered the subtle bulge of a dagger's hilt just barely visible between the swell of her breasts. "We would definitely have to do something about that, wouldn't we?"

"You don't have to worry. I am not like you."

"But what of her?" The Lady's eyes wandered down to Elphis's sleeping form, still nestled in Maduin's arm. "She is a natural born fighter, I can sense it. Oh she hates me, but there is plenty of room in the Stradivari. Room for many different kinds of people..."

"Elphis will never join you. I'll make sure of that."

"Pu." Kumiro's pouting face popped up beside Maduin's.

"We will see." The Lady suddenly looked bored. "Enough. The Mother of Pearl is lowering her rigging. You can board from the side, so no one sees you. I'll board from the dock, like a lady should. You can swim can't you?"

For an answer, Maduin simply leapt from where he stood, soaring low over the water and straight past the rigging of the ship. With one clawed hand he grabbed the side of the ship, and stepped quietly over the railing and onto the ship. He made sure to land behind a large pile of crates and barrels so no one would notice a sailor that was just a little too tall to be human. His movements were so careful and gentle that Elphis never stirred in his arm.

"Hmph, as you will," was the Lady's only response. She carried herself across the dock and onto the ship with the grace of a queen, and stood silent and apart from the other sailors on the deck while she waited for the Captain to send word for them.

Maduin said nothing to her, and nothing to any of the sailors running around him. If they saw him, they paid no notice. He found their tacit acceptance of his monstrous presence unnerving. But then, the Lady Blunt had not minded his appearance, and Servais showed little fear of him either. The Stradivari were made of tougher stuff than usual people, Maduin had to admit.

After a half hour of strained silence between Maduin and the Lady Blunt, an older man came running up to the Lady. He looked once at Maduin, half-hidden in the shadows of the cargo, then back to the Lady.

"The Captain will see you now," was all he said, then he vanished back inside the ship.

"Shall we?" the Lady said merrily, replacing the dagger she had been twirling impatiently while she waited back into the endless folds of her black dress. In a moment she, too, vanished inside the ship.

"Ah, Kumiro, what viper's nest are we walking into?" Maduin sighed as he ducked passed the arch of the door and into the bosom of the Mother of Pearl.


	102. Red Tide, 'Grey, Fey, and Ham'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.6 - Grey, Fey, and Ham**

"How much long must we wait?" The Lady Blunt marched across the stuffy cabin, back and forth, back and forth. She had waited patiently enough for an audience with Captain Delphino, but it seemed she would not wait so quietly for the man she called Lord Ham.

The Captain herself waited like a stone statue behind her large wooden work desk, papers and sea charts piled high around her. The desk was as expected to Maduin. He had seen an almost identical assortment of material in Captain Bismark's quarters the few times he had been allowed in them. In that they were much alike.

What Maduin had expected of the woman herself, he was not sure. Probably a tall, strong beauty, with face and hair out of a fairy tale. A siren of the sea she must be to draw in the distant heart of his Captain. What he saw, however, was a crag of a woman, as old and salty as the Captain. Her long steel-grey hair poured over her shoulders like a mane, a damp, lanky mane. Her face was deep and furrowed, and her eyes sunk so deep in wrinkles Maduin could barely see more than the glimmer of silvery pupils. The Captain had always seemed old to him, this woman seemed ancient. But her thin-lipped smile was young and wily, a smile strangely similar to the Lady Blunt's. Maduin did not like that smile.

Of the rest of her Maduin saw nothing beyond a long, grey cloak of lobo fur, trimmed with the feathers of the local vulture. The woman almost looked part of the furniture of the room, save her staring silver eyes and thin, knowing smile. She had been seated behind her desk, surrounded in papers when he came in, and had not moved a finger since. The only things she had spoken were a half-dozen curt words in her wheezy voice. "Welcome," "Sit," and "Wait for Ole Bull."

For a while Maduin was content to wait. The Lady's outburst had been short-lived and futile, and Maduin decided it was best not to imitate her. The Captain did not take any more notice of her fellow Stradivari after her outburst than before, and he doubted she would so much as look at him, even if he yelled. And strangely, the Lady Blunt did not seem to mind the treatment. It seemed impossible, but here, in the quarters of her Captain, she acted almost timid.

After a half hour of waiting, the Captain finally stirred herself, but only to lift one weathered fist out of her wolf's fur and to her face. She whispered something that sounded like a series of clicks and rasps into her closed hand, then opened it. To Maduin's surprise, a fat little beetle flitted out of her hand and then out a small porthole.

Maduin looked at the Lady Blunt for explanation, but she was busy carving a small block of wood with one of her daggers, and seemed not to notice anything around her. She sensed his eyes on her, though, and muttered, "Even the sea has its limits."

Ten minutes later, there was a loud slamming noise from outside that Maduin took for a door being rudely banged, and a moment later a giant vomammoth burst through the cabin door with a loud bellow.

"The Ladies Grey and Fey! Sorry to keep you waiting, but there was a matter I just _had_ to attend to."

Maduin jumped at the explosion of noise into their silent group. Barely fitting inside the door frame was not a vomammoth, but the largest man he had ever seen, covered in a vast coat made of what could only be the thick, mangy pelt of an equally large vomammoth, head, tusks and all. No human could ever be as tall as Maduin, but this man was close, and definitely wider. Almost eight feet tall, and nearly as large around, he was a man who fit his title well. The Lady Blunt might have been content to wait for her Captain, but this heaving giant looked ready to crash through the desk and lift the Captain up on the tusks jutting from the vomammoth head mounted on his brow like a helm.

The Captain did not seem to even notice the man's entrance. She merely kept her vigil from behind her desk.

"And what matter was that, Lord Ham? A second behemoth steak?" The Lady Blunt was standing now, her wooden carving tossed to the floor and her dagger still in hand. She was not smiling.

"A Bug from the South, my dear Lady Fey," said the man in a deep, booming voice. It was not quite a bellow, but it was the closest to a conversational tone he seemed capable of . "It seems we have a new member. Named him Molitor."

The Lady Blunt seemed to find this news interesting. "Has he been blooded?"

"Aye, christened and blooded. A full member now."

"And how did he kill?" The Lady licked her lips.

Ole Bull smiled a big thick grin full of crooked teeth. "With naught but his own sweet voice."

The Lady deflated at that. "What?"

"He's a man of words, and manipulates others into doing his killing for him. They say he convinced a ghost to take the man he chose to the other side personally."

Now the Lady straightened and looked interested again. Before she could speak, Ole Bull smiled knowingly and shook his shaggy head. "Dunno the details on that one. Could be him, but just as likely it's some other strangeness from Jidorik."

Maduin did not like all this talk of death and killing. But news from Jidorik was valuable. That was where he must go if he wanted to free his friends, and it would seem there were just as many Stradivari down there as in the North.

"And what other 'strangeness' might be going on in Jidorik?" Maduin ventured. He had not moved while the two spoke, and it seemed like the man hadn't even noticed him, despite his own massive size.

"Oho! The mountain speaks! I thought you were a stuffed Hill Gigas the way you stood there, Esper!" Ole Bull turned his ponderous girth to face Maduin now, still all smiles and bluster. "Servais told me about you, Maduin is it? And the little girl there must be Elphis, the blind one?"

"Yes." Maduin protectively brought Elphis's sleeping body closer to him, away from the unpredictable energy of Ole Bull. Kumiro peaked out from behind him, trying to look even smaller than usual, but still curious to see who this new, noisy member was.

"Ah! And the moogle, just like he said. And this is definitely the same one from Antissa, and Narsille, right?" He looked at the Lady Blunt, and with a short nod, she confirmed Maduin's identity to the man. "Ah good, good." He seemed satisfied.

"The South?" Maduin repeated, trying to keep Ole Bull's attention on the topic at hand.

Ole Bull laughed and slapped his enormous belly. The entire cabin shook from his voice. "All I know is what the Bug tells me."

"A bug?" Maduin was reminded of the beetle-thing that had flown out the porthole.

"Not a bug. A _Bug._" Ole Bull explained, as if nothing more needed to be said.

"I'm afraid...," Maduin started, but Ole Bull raised his ham-sized fist to silence him. When he opened it, there was another beetle-like insect in his hand, slightly larger than the one Captain Delphino had used, and with larger wings. It scuttled about in his hands, twitching its head back and forth expectantly.

"This is a Bug," he said proudly. "I take it you know who we are?"

"You're Ole Bull, and all three of you are Stradivari, correct?" Maduin said carefully. He must not forget - these were all killers.

"Correct." Ole Bull raised the plump Bug to his mouth as if to eat it whole, then said in a soft, cracked voice different from his usual one something Maduin could not make out. The Bug spread its wings, and like the first, flew out the porthole.

"That was for Servais, to let him know where I'm at. He's currently wandering the back alleys, trying to sell some weed he found in the forest or something. You know Servais."

The funny thing was, Maduin did. The time he had spent with Servais had been short, but eventful. He almost considered the hunter a friend.

"Anyways, we use these Bugs for communication. Discovered by Servais and bred by Madam Greffuhle herself, they are. Nothing else like them in the world. They say one sting from a mishandled Bug will turn you to stone. Good protection against being intercepted, eh? Where Servais found the creepy little things I'll never know, but damn if they aren't useful!"

"And that one brought you news from Jidorik?" Maduin urged, trying to keep the man on track. The Bugs were interesting, but he wanted to know about the message, not the messenger.

"So you want to know what the Bug says?" Ole Bull dropped his hands to his sides, and took a stance that could only be taken for a fighting posture. "Gotta test you first. A big guy like you, I can't pass up a chance like this."

Maduin stiffened. The last thing he wanted was to fight. He could get the information from someone else if this was how he had to get it from Ole Bull. Servais, Captain Delphino, even the Lady Blunt...all of them seemed better choices than this man at the moment. "Never mind, it's not important enough to fight over."

Ole Bull laughed again and beat his chest like a drum. "Too late for that, Esper. I want to see what your kind is made of. Rumors and ghosts are all I've had recently, and I need something more...filling." He laughed again, and Maduin could see his thick muscles bulging under the layers of fat and vomammoth hide. He looked every bit like a bull ready to charge.

"Outside."

Ole Bull stopped short at the quiet command, issued from Captain Delphino. It was the first time she had spoken since Ole Bull entered. Maduin glanced back at her, still half-hidden behind her desk and papers, but she looked the same as before, staring at them like a feathered gargoyle. It was like she hadn't even spoken. But Ole Bull had heard her loud and clear, and seemed chastened.

"Lady Grey's right. This birdcage is too small. We'll fight on the deck."

"I told you I don't want..."

"Go, it has to be done." Once again, Captain Delphino's dusty voice drifted over them, stern and unrelenting. It was not a voice to be ignored.

Maduin shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "I'll try not to hurt you."

Ole Bull had already left the cabin and was on his way above deck, but Maduin could hear his laughter booming through the ship. "I won't promise the same, Esper." His voice trailed down to the cabin, as loud as if he were still there.

"Leave the girl here. She'll be safe," Captain Delphino said in a tone that was almost gentle, but still a command.

Maduin nodded and placed Elphis on a cushioned seat. The Captain's eyes moved to her sleeping form, one eyebrow raised.

"Why won't she wake?"

"We had a trying time in the forest east of here. She is still recovering from the battle, I think." In truth, Maduin did not know why she hadn't woken yet. Something had happened in that forest. Something inexplicable, and definitely magic. And it was not his magic, either. Elphis seemed fine, just asleep, but she had been sleeping for almost a day. She breathed and was at peace, but her skin was still paler than usual, and if Ole Bull's entrance didn't wake her, there wasn't much else that would. If she did not wake soon, Maduin would start to worry.

The old woman simply grunted in response and turned into a statue again. It was obvious she would say nothing more, so Maduin left her sitting on her throne like a queen of stone.

On deck, Ole Bull was swinging his arms and stretching, ready for the contest of strength. The Lady Blunt had quietly slithered out of the cabin and now leaned against the wall beside the doorway, smiling with dagger in hand. "Careful, he's stronger than he looks," was all she would say.

_Stronger than he looks? He looks as strong as the vomammoth he wears, and smells as bad too!_

Maduin couldn't help but chuckle. He knew Elphis would complain about the man's smell more than anything else, if she were awake. The grin left his face as he realized he missed her company already.

"Kumiro, stay here with the Lady Blunt," Maduin said as he lurched across the deck.

"Puh...," chirped the moogle in a glum tone.

"I know it's a bad idea, but if this is what it takes for them to trust me, then so be it. I must have their good will, or this will just be another Antissa."

The moogle shook its head and fluttered away to sit on a barrel, keeping his distance from the idling Lady Blunt. Maduin knew how the moogle felt. He was the monster here, but the Stradivari were the ones that couldn't be trusted yet.

As Maduin walked towards where Ole Bull squatted and stretched, he stumbled more than once. He had never liked being on a ship, even the Maiden. Captain Bismark had always joked about how he was made for the desert, not the sea, and he was absolutely right. It would seem his new body was the same as the old in this case. The feeling of rushing across the sands of the Thanas in his new Esper body had been exhilarating, but he felt the same sick knot in his gut here as he had on Captain Bismark's ship as a human.

"Looking a little green there, Esper!" Ole Bull called out. "Better get your sea legs quick, or you'll be knocked right off the ship!"

Maduin watched the man prepare himself. The cold blue tusks of his vomammoth skin overcoat gleamed in the sun like melting ice, and Maduin wondered if the man had actually killed the beast himself. Maduin had wrestled with vomammoths on the snowy slopes north of Narsille, and while he had always overpowered them and sent them running, they could still be dangerous even to him. Those tusks may look like ice, but they gored like a boar spear, and the creatures strength when charging was more than any human could hope to stand against. So what was this man's - no, this _Stradivari's_, secret? How did _he_ kill?

After what seemed a mile of unsteady trudging across the deck, Maduin lumbered into position, ten feet from Ole Bull. Thankfully, the man had removed his coat and placed it in a pile next to him. The tusks were resting along with the rest of the hide, and would not be a threat. A gleaming bald pate shone as brightly as the tusks that had hidden it, revealing the full features of the man for the first time. Maduin realized that this man was surprisingly _old_. At least in his fifties, but the Stradivari were a special breed of people, and he could very well be even older. The Lady Blunt, for all her cold beauty and youthful motions, was a woman in her forties. The man could be anywhere from fifty to a hundred, for all he knew.

There were no weapons on Ole Bull. He stood bare-chested, with his gut hanging out over his belt like flabby armor. There was muscle there, to be sure, but it was well-hidden under the endless rolls of fat and thick mat of short, black hair. From the way he flexed and postured, it actually looked like he intended to contest his strength directly with Maduin's, hand to hand. The man was as foolhardy as a vomammoth, too, if he thought to best a ten-foot Esper with his bare hands.

_Careful, he's stronger than he looks._ The Lady Blunt's voice echoed in his mind once more. But no matter how strong, he was still only human. Maduin wished there was some way to avoid a fight now more than ever. What if he accidentally killed the man?

Maduin sighed and called out to the man to see reason one more time. "We don't have to do this, you know. I don't want to hurt you, and you won't be able to hurt me." It was a little arrogant, but Maduin knew it for the cold, hard truth. No human, even one as big as Ole Bull, could compare to the strength of an Esper. The man may even outweigh Maduin with that stomach of his, but Maduin had the blood of the gods coursing through his magical veins. There was no hope for this man, Stradivari or not.

Ole Bull's laugh was the only response Maduin got. The giant of a man stepped into position himself, and planted his feet squarely on the rocking deck, smiling all the while.

Lady Blunt's harsh laugh rose up from behind Maduin. "Give us a good show, Lord Ham!"

Ole Bull tipped his brow and waved his hand like knight saluting his maiden. "As you wish, my Lady Fey."

"I will not fight back," Maduin said, deciding on his course of action. "You may come at me as you like, and see what you can do."

"Cocky, aren't you?" Ole Bull said. "Don't worry about me. I always do as I like. Hah!"

With a roar that shook the planks beneath his feet, Ole Bull charged head first at Maduin. As he had promised, Maduin did not move an inch, either to evade the charge or brace for it. He merely looked at the man with sad eyes.

_If this is what it takes._

When the man's thick body collided with Maduin, it sent a shock reverberating through his body that surprised him. No doubt, there was the strength of a full-grown bull vomammoth in this man. But...no more than that. And as impressive as it might be against a human opponent, it was simply not enough against an Esper.

Maduin stood stock still as Ole Bull's weight crashed into him. The impact was strong enough to force him to grab the man with both hands and stop his progress, the same as he had done with dozens of real vomammoths, but not enough to make the Esper so much as take one step from where he stood.

That was his first mistake.

Before Maduin knew what was happening, he found his arms being grabbed in a firm grip and himself being thrown to the deck, the full weight and smell of Ole Bull on top of him. It was a most unpleasant position to be in.

"Hah! Don't ever let your guard down when fighting a Stradivari," Ole Bull crooned pleasantly from where he sat atop Maduin's form, acting like the king of the mountain. "If you promise to take this match seriously, I may let you up."

Utterly embarrassed, Maduin tried to rise, but found he couldn't. Ole Bull definitely outweighed him, and somehow knew just where to place his prodigious weight to pinch the nerves of his limbs and render him paralyzed. For all his power, Maduin could not move. He could use magic, but that would be unfair, and unpredictably dangerous. And besides, he had his pride, even as an Esper. There was no reason he couldn't overpower this man with his physical strength alone.

"Fine, just get off me," Maduin finally said after five minutes of struggling like a fish out of water. People had started to gather both on the deck, and on the docks nearby. The last thing he wanted was to put on a show for all these people. Best just to get it over with.

The tingling numbness that had stolen over his arms and legs vanished as soon as Ole Bull hefted his body back onto the ship's deck. "Good, now this time, I want you to come at me. I'll show you how to properly defend yourself."

It was all Maduin could do not to fire a chunk of ice at the back of the man's head as he sauntered back into position, completely sure of himself. But he would do as he was told, and hopefully put this man in his place. Maduin had toppled a beast the size of a house with his charge before. What hope did this human have?

"Now, show me what you're made of, _Esper._" Ole Bull was standing as he had before, facing his opponent with both hands dangling at his side, ready and waiting.

The wooden boards beneath his feet cracked and splintered as he lifted himself forward, and the entire ship rocked downwards from his launch. There would be no holding back this time. Ole Bull wanted the Esper, and that was exactly what he was going to get.

When Maduin reached Ole Bull, he had expected to send the man careening clear off the ship and into the water, properly humiliated. Unfortunately, Ole Bull would not be so easily shamed. Thick hands grasped Maduin's right shoulder spike as he reached his target. Before he could react, he felt his entire body swinging around and flying off the ship with all the force he had intended for Ole Bull.

The water was cold, but Maduin only felt the rising heat of embarrassment as he waded in the ocean like a fool. The laughter of the people watching from the docks could be heard clearly from where he floated. What had just happened?

"That's what you should have done to me when I charged you, Esper," Ole Bull called out from the deck. He was not smiling now. "It wouldn't have worked, but you should still have tried, and at least I wouldn't have pinned you."

"I don't need lessons on how to fight from you," said Maduin from the water, gritting his teeth.

"Like hell you don't!" Ole Bull roared from above, angry for the first time since Maduin had met him. "Fey was right, you're green as a pickle. Now get up here and try again. I want a fight, and I won't let you go without one!"

That was enough for Maduin. With an arctic blast, he flew from the water like a cannonball. The entire bay around the ship froze solid, trapping the Mother of Pearl and two other ships in place. The laughter of the people on the docks died in their throats.

_If you want an Esper for real, then you'll get one, Lord Ham._

When Maduin landed on the ship's deck, his clawed feet dug into the wood so hard that he felt the planks shatter beneath him. It was only by using his magical energies to hover in place that he kept from crashing straight down into the hold. His eyes glowed a fierce blue and cold winds shot out like small tornadoes towards Ole Bull.

"That's more like it," Ole Bull said, his anger still visible on his face. If the freezing air bothered him, he didn't show it. "Get one thing straight here, Esper. We don't need your strength. We have strength. And we certainly don't need your fighting experience," Ole Bull allowed himself a mocking grin and spat a thick glob of phlegm overboard. "What we need is this," Ole Bole calmly waved his hand through the faint blue whorls that surrounded him. "We need magic. And it looks like you're the best we've got. Hmph."

"Just what is going on here?" Maduin suspected this test was more than just for bragging rights or fun. It really had been a test, to see if he could actually help them against whatever was plaguing Zwill. The cold knot of anger that had formed in his stomach shattered. He had not proved himself very well, and he knew it. He had let his pride blind him to the fact that just maybe he wasn't as superior to these people as he thought.

Ole Bull resumed his fighting position. "Fight me properly and I'll tell you. I won't waste my breath on someone who's no use to me."

"Very well, but I warn you. Magic is dangerous and hard to control."

"Just as any true force of nature should be. Come at me with your magic, and we will see."

This time, Maduin did not blindly charge the man. With a flick of his fingers, he sent a bullet of ice flying at Ole Bull as fast as an arrow. It struck the back of his hand, and was swatted aside just as easily as Maduin himself had been.

"Better, but I hope you can do more than throw snowballs," grunted Ole Bull.

Wordlessly, Maduin conjured another chunk of ice, this time the size of a cannonball. Ole Bull still pushed it aside the same way he had pushed Maduin away, but he had to use both his hands and the full strength of his arms to do it. The man was quicker than he looked, and as the Lady Blunt had warned, stronger as well.

"That was good, but it won't help us. Again." Ole Bull was rubbing his hands where the ice had hit, and Maduin knew he had to have hurt the man. Brushing aside a cannonball is no small feat, no matter how strong a man is.

The third round was when Maduin knew he was not dealing with an ordinary human. The boulder of ice he hurled this time was the same strength as the attacks he had used against Cerberus, and even that hellhound had staggered at their blows. When Ole Bull saw the rock of ice hurtling towards him, instead of getting out of the way as Maduin had thought he would, he stood his ground once again.

"Watch out!" Maduin cried, despite himself, as he watched Ole Bull brace for an attack that would surely kill him.

The ice hit home and with a sickening crunch split itself against its target. Maduin had closed his eyes as the rock was about to hit, not wanting to see the man die by his own bravado. When he heard laughing, he opened his eyes.

Ole Bull was on his rump, his back against the mast of the ship. He had been thrown back half the length of the ship by the force of the impact, but he was alive. On either side of him was a broken hunk of ice, each as big as he was. And in between was the old man, down, but certainly not out. And laughing uproariously. Both his hands were covered in blood, but he did not seem to notice.

"Are we done?" Maduin hoped so.

"For today," Ole Bull said, dusting himself off. "I had to resort to my secret technique for that one, and even then, I barely managed to break it. Yes, your magic may be of some use to us." Ole Bull walked with his steady step across the deck, the blood dripping unheeded from his hands. "If you can learn how to fight, that is," he finished, stretching out a bloody hand to Maduin.

"Well met, Maduin. Sampson Harcourt, mayor of Zwill, at your service," Ole Bull said, introducing himself properly.

Maduin took the bloody hand in his own and shook it. The man's grip was remarkably strong, but Maduin's was stronger.

Ole Bull winced as Maduin tightened his grip. Smiling, he tightened his grip as well, but Maduin only increased his strength. The Esper could easily crush the man's hand, no matter how strong he was.

"Aye, you're strong. Is that what you want to hear me say? Now loosen your grip, my hands are already wounded from striking that block of ice."

Maduin smiled and let go. "Well met, Sampson Harcourt. Maduin, Esper of No One, at your service."

"Now we may talk of Zwill. After seeing your powers, there is no doubt it is Espers and magic we face."

"Then I will do what I can to help you against my brethren."

_But I will not kill them, if I can help it. I am not a killer._

"I still think you're wasting your time with this one," Lady Blunt broke in, her eyes like daggers as she looked at the two grinning men. "It's the girl we should be training to fight. I'm never wrong about candidates."

"And Servais says it is the Esper," Ole Bull countered, his eyes still looking up at Maduin's face, but the smile gone from his face. "And he's never wrong, either."

"And I agree with the Lady Blunt."

All three heads turned to see Captain Delphino standing in the doorway, her gray lobo fur coat hanging from her in thick luxurious folds. Nestled in the vulture-feathered linings of her coat like a little bird was Elphis, wide awake and staring blindly towards the group.

"Hiya Maydune," Elphis said sleepily. "What's that smell? Smells like a big old vomammoth."

Maduin couldn't help but laugh. Ole Bull joined him, and even Kumiro chirped his little gurgling laugh.

"Lady Grey may do as she pleases," Ole Bull said graciously. "Lady Fey will be reminded that I am the Axelrod of the North, and her superior."

The Lady Blunt harrumphed and stalked off the ship. "My job here is done then, _Lord Ham,_" she spat over her shoulder as she walked straight off the undocked ship's gangplank and onto the still-frozen water. Without slipping once she walked across the ice and back onto land, disappearing through the crossblade gates and into the city proper.

"Always a handful, that one," Ole Bull said, rubbing his bald head with his still-bleeding hand. "Captain, might you have something for my hands?"

"Come along, then." Captain Delphino silently let Elphis drop down from her nest of feathers and onto the deck. Her gargoyle eyes never left the little girl, though.

"Maydune, what's goin' on?" Elphis said happily, oblivious to the recent struggle.

"Nothing for you to worry about." Maduin reached down and took her little hand in his, then looked to Ole Bull. "What now?"

"First, I fix up my hands. While Captain Delphino treats me, we can talk of those things you wanted to know. Not here, though. Too many ears about."

"Of course."

Ole Bull donned his vomammoth overcoat again, and marched back below deck. Maduin followed him with Elphis, telling her about the people they now found themselves with. She was not happy about Lady Blunt showing up, but she seemed to like Captain Delphino, and thought Ole Bull was funny, if not smelly.

"How did you wake up? I was starting to get worried you'd sleep forever."

"I heard a voice, and I opened my eyes. That's all. It was the Captain's voice," Elphis said absently, as if it wasn't strange at all that she had slept so long, or been woken by the voice of a stranger.

"What did she say?"

"Don't remember. I was dreaming with Titan, and then I heard her voice, and woke up. I think she's a witch, Maydune."

Ole Bull heard them and laughed, but not quite as loud as usual. "Captain Delphino's no witch. But she is very skilled in the healing arts, and a master hypnotist as well. When she tells you do something, it's hard to say no." Ole Bull glanced back at Elphis scurrying along beside the two giants and smiled. "She told you to wake up...and you listened. Simple as that."

"I still think she's a witch," Elphis said stubbornly. "A good witch, though."

"Kupo." Kumiro agreed.

Both men were laughing as the group entered the stuffy cabin once again. As usual, Delphino sat behind her desk, still as stone. Her thin-lipped smiled still danced on her lips, and Maduin's good humor died as he watched her treat Ole Bull's hands. Could Elphis see that smile, she might not be so trusting of the "good witch."

_I must not forget I am surrounded by killers._


	103. Red Tide, 'The Demon Wives of Astarte'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.7 - The Demon Wives of Astarte**

As Maduin stood by patiently and listened to Ole Bull go over the latest reports from Jidorik in the cramped cabin, he couldn't help but fall into a deep sadness. His former ally Draco Christophe had fallen far indeed if the reports from the Stradivari were true. How could such a noble man give rise to such a corrupt, tyrannical Esper overlord as Bahamut?

And what of Captain Bismark? Indie? Nothing. There had been sightings of the Maiden of the Sea in the ports of West Jidorik, but no sign of a giant white whale, or an old man that could control lightning. There had been brief reports of a giant serpent flying through the skies of northern East Jidorik and the Zozo mountains, however, and wherever Leviathan was, his Esper soldiers were sure to be nearby. Apparently Leviathan had made his stronghold among the barbarians of the rain-drenched Zozo mountains. And this did not sit will with Ole Bull.

At the moment, however, Maduin was growing increasingly aware of a strange atmosphere in the stuffy cabin. Here he stood, hunched over and tucked away in a corner of the Mother of Pearl, Elphis on his lap and Kumiro curled up like a cat at his feet, sleeping. And across from him were two Stradivari, Captain Delphino and Ole Bull, discussing the top secret plans and reports of their group as if he were one of them. But he was not one of them. He was not a Stradivari, and he was most definitely not a killer like them. It was eating away at him and he could not hold it in any longer.

"Why are you allowing me to hear all this?" Maduin said abruptly as the two Stradivari poured over maps of the Zozo mountain region closest to the Zwill flatlands.

The Captain did not turn her head, but merely turned her eyes on him without emotion. As usual, she said nothing and let her burly companion field Maduin's questions.

"Because we need you, Maduin," Ole Bull said matter-of-factly, as if he were expecting such a question sooner or later from the inquisitive Esper. "You are the only Esper we know of that isn't out to kill us all. We'd be fools to not do everything in our power to convince you to trust _us._" He glanced at Delphino and his eyes showed an unusual note of concern. "Whether we trust you or not is irrelevant. You're all the magic we've got."

"I don't like being put in this position, you know." Maduin was tired of being treated like a weapon.

"We don't like relying on outsiders, either. But the balance of this region has been put all out of whack, and it's magic that's to blame. Magic and Espers. You." Ole Bull pointed one thick finger, still bloody from their contest, at Maduin and frowned.

Maduin sighed and turned his head down to Elphis and away from the accusing finger. What else could he do? They were right. His actions and his kind were responsible for what was happening now, and he couldn't in good conscience ignore their pleas for help.

"I don't know what I should do, though," Maduin said, hushing Elphis before she could say something to Ole Bull about being mean to him. "What exactly are we up against here in Zwill? You've talked about Jidorik and Zozo, but not of what's happening here, right now."

Ole Bull looked uncomfortable and turned his ponderous vomammoth-topped head to Delphino. "Well? Do you want to tell it or me?"

But Delphino just shook her head and turned her vulture-like eyes back to the map of the Zozo mountains. "No, it's your story to tell and you know it. I'm merely a visitor."

Sighing, the giant man took a large heavily-cushioned chair from the corner of the room and slumped into it. The chair creaked, but held, apparently having been made especially for his visitations.

"Well, you're right as usual," he said after ho-ing and humming and fidgeting with the grimy hairs of his vomammoth coat. "Maduin, you said you were an archeologist. What do you know of the barbarians of Zozo? Of the Cult of the Goddess?"

What did he know? Little, almost nothing. They were a myth as far as he knew. Some lost pagan society that died off millennia ago.

_I wonder how much my father knew of these people? As I travel the world, I am beginning to see just how little I know of it. Some archeologist I turned out to be. I am sorry I could not live up to the Karn name, father._

"I only know of them as an ancient lost society of mostly savages, apparently from several thousand years ago, pre-dating even the Phoenician civilization. What do they have to do with your city?" Maduin replied slowly, ashamed of his own ignorance in the very field he was supposed to be an expert in.

Ole Bull heaved and creaked in his chair, as uncomfortable as Maduin on the topic. "I am one of them," he said gruffly to the wall.

Maduin remained silent, waiting for the man to explain. It seemed he was as ashamed of knowing the cult as Maduin was of not knowing it.

After a long silence Ole Bull turned his head away from the wall and back towards Maduin. "I don't suppose you know the history of Zwill, either."

Maduin shook his head, wondering when the man would get to what he was obviously trying to put off.

At last, Ole Bull cleared his throat and said in a tone quieter and more subdued than any Maduin had heard him speak yet, "Old Zwill, the man that is, not the town, was the founder of our city. He is my ancestor, and his direct line has ruled this city for hundreds of years. I have less of a hand in ruling nowadays than my father or grandfather did, but the title of ruler is still mine by rights. And everyone here knows it, even if they don't act like it sometimes." He coughed, and spat into the corner, ignoring the Captain's grimace. Then he dove into the heart of his story.

"Old Zwill came down from the Zozo mountains some four hundred years ago, and conquered this region in the name of the Goddess Astarte, who's exiled people have called those mountains home for who knows how long."

"Astarte?" Maduin said, surprised. He remembered what Genju had told him of the Fallen Masters. "That's the name of one of the fallen gods that are here now, creating Espers and preparing for war. She's the one that gave Levi the form of Leviathan, and Indie..." he trailed off. The cold, judging eyes of Ramuh loomed up in his mind as he remembered what the Goddess had done to the once joyful and excitable man.

"Aye, I know it. Servais has told me as much. I never once believed she was actually _real_ until now. I just assumed she was some mythical goddess my ancestors worshipped. You know how those things go. Nobody _really_ believes them except the most fanatical followers..."

"I always believed in Altimus, and Elia too."

Ole Bull straightened like a cracked whip at the sound of Delphino's voice. Maduin, too, was surprised to hear her speak of religion. But if she planned on saying anything else, she did not. She simply remained motionless in her chair, as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"Of course," Ole Bull said, trying to get back on track. "But none of us, Old Zwill included, really believed in the Goddess. That's why he stayed here afterwards. He was the greatest warrior of the Zozo horde, sent to conquer all of the north for Astarte, but he found something here that took the fight right out of him, and he never went back up to the mountains again. He cut all ties with Zozo, named himself king of this region, and left the Goddess behind. The worship of the Goddess is expressly forbidden in Zwill, even to this day."

"What did he find here?" Maduin found himself asking.

Ole Bull smiled sadly. "He found love. You see, human sacrifice was the big thing for the Cult of the Goddess. Virgin maidens were given to the Goddess on a golden altar atop a golden pyramid to appease her and to bring about her return, as was foretold. As the conqueror, Old Zwill was expected to bring the most beautiful maiden he could find of the conquered people to the altar at the heart of the mountains. Instead, he fell for the woman and settled down to rule in his own name. The very idea of destroying his wife for some make-believe Goddess that would never return was more than he could stand. And the rest is history, as they say. Zozo couldn't stand against their own mightiest warrior, so they let him be, cursing him and his line. They swore someday the Goddess would return and seek her vengeance on him. Nobody listened to the crazy barbarians, of course. But now..."

"Has the Goddess's Herald been seen, then? Has Leviathan attacked your city?" Maduin found himself looking out the closed porthole, half-expecting to see the serpent's giant yellow eye peering in. He couldn't help but shudder at the feeling of being watched.

Ole Bull seemed genuinely shocked at the idea. "What? No! We haven't seen that old bastard Levi up here yet, thank the gods." Ole Bull glanced quickly towards the porthole, probably thinking the same thoughts as Maduin. He paled visibly.

"No," he repeated to calm himself. "But a herald of a different kind has come down to us from Zozo. A Demon Wife."

"A what?"

"The leaders of the Cult of Astarte. The Demon Wives. Old Zwill made sure we knew all about them when he wrote about the hell he had escaped from. They are women who have given themselves as self-sacrifices to the altar...and lived. Or come back from death." Now the big man shuddered, his fat rippling in waves. "I don't know the specifics, but once a woman becomes a Demon Wife, she is seen as being a direct extension of the Goddess herself, and their words are her words. I never thought she was really speaking through them. I thought it was a sham. But you have to wonder now."

Maduin found all of this fascinating despite himself. He wished there was time to study all this properly, as an archeologist. "This Demon Wife that visited here...is she an Esper?"

"I don't know," Ole Bull said, wiping sweat from his brow. "She looks human to me. Calls herself Lilith, daughter of Marilith." Ole Bull stopped and looked at Maduin closely. "I guess you don't know who Marilith is, eh?"

Maduin shook his head, but Elphis squeaked suddenly, as if she was pinched.

"A forbidden herald?" she said, surprising everyone in the room, including herself. In the stunned silence, she ducked her head and said shyly, "That's what Titan says, at least. He sounded mad. Well, madder than usual." She ducked further as the silence grew. "Sorries."

The silence continued for a second longer, then Ole Bull and Delphino laughed together, a loud cannon burst and a dry sound like crackling paper. Ole Bull smiled wide and leaned over towards the embarrassed girl, patting her on the head. "Now, now, don't you worry. If that friend of yours says anything, don't you be afraid to just yell it out, you hear?" He laughed again and turned to Delphino. "Maybe you are right about her, Delphino."

Delphino smiled, but said nothing.

"Anyways," Ole Bull continued, "whatever she may really have been, legend says Marilith was the first Demon Wife of Astarte. Apparently all Demon Wives after that called themselves daughters of Marilith. Legend has it they are granted the beauty of the Goddess herself in order to seduce men into the cult. And this one that came riding down on that thing of hers fits the bill all right. She's beautiful, Maduin. Unspeakably beautiful."

Maduin couldn't help himself. An image of Mae wavered in his mind before he could force it away. He grimaced at the painful thought, and wondered what this Lilith really looked like. As far as Maduin was concerned, Mae was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and wondered what a Goddess-touched Demon Wife might look like compared to Mae.

"I sure hope you can control your instincts, Maduin. I sure hope you're more Esper than man." Ole Bull was frowning deeply, lost in bad memories of his own. "I've lost over a hundred good men to this Lilith already. She comes down on the full moon on that crazy mount of hers, and sings to the city. Everyone hears her, even though she's a mile away on the nearest hilltop. She calls out to them, and some of them break down into tears and run off. They leave wives behind. Kids, too. They just up and run off, crying but unable to stop themselves."

"That's horrible." Maduin was disgusted at the low tactics the Goddess was using to recruit more people to her army, but he wasn't surprised. Only a trickster god would have such a slimy sneak as Levi as her Herald. How many of those men were now Espers, Maduin wondered?

"I've seen her." Ole Bull said, lost in his own reliving of the nights of Lilith's comings. "She's too beautiful to be human, man. I mean, she looks perfectly...well, perfect. She's completely naked, sitting on that hell horse of hers, and her golden hair is just flowing, even though there's no breeze. That's another thing...there's never any wind while she's here. But there's always a horrible storm before and after. Lightning like I've never seen. It's a hell of mess putting out the fires the lightning strikes cause all over the city. I think it's her horse. I think it's an Esper like you."

Maduin let the man go on. He seemed to be talking to himself almost, until he got to the part about the Esper horse. At that he was looking right at Maduin.

"I tried to fight her, Maduin. Delphino warned me it wouldn't work, but she stayed by my side anyway and used her hypnosis to keep my mind under my own control, not Lilith's. I thought if I could just get past her devilry, I could knock some sense into her."

Ole Bull shuddered again. Maduin knew the old man was not used to failing. Not used to being beat in any kind of fight. "But the horse stopped you didn't it? You couldn't stand against its magic, right?"

"You better believe it. Damn Esper tricks!" Ole Bull stopped and looked askance. "Sorry 'bout that. It just doesn't feel right, that's all. I've fought beasts as big as that horse before and overpowered them. True, it's bigger than any horse I ever saw, and was covered in armor...or perhaps that armor was part of it, now that I look at you. But that didn't matter, I tell you!" Ole Bull's voice was pleading, trying to get Maduin, and perhaps himself, to understand it wasn't a fair fight. "The horse, it just reared up on its hind legs with that woman sitting on top like the Goddess herself, and that was it! A blast of lightning rippled from the horse's main down to its front hooves and into the ground, and then I was struck dumb. Never even knew what hit me, never had a chance to counter. Don't know what happened after that. Delphino says the woman laughed and just rode off, saying she would return to take back more of what was rightfully hers. Said the next time she would take them all, and leave nothing behind but dust."

"Astarte is coming to fulfill what her followers promised four hundred years ago, isn't she? You think this is because of Old Zwill's defection?" Maduin asked, finally putting the pieces of this sad tale together.

Ole bull nodded. "I didn't want to believe it at first, but with your arrival here and everything I'm learning now, it doesn't seem there's any other way to see it. It's taken awhile, but us Harcourts are finally paying for Old Zwill's decision. You know what the funny thing is? It's only people who are related to Old Zwill himself that are being pulled away. I don't have any close living family members myself, but Old Zwill was a lively fellow by all accounts, and his first wife wasn't his only one. It's said he fathered over a hundred children himself before he died. I'd say at least a third of the population of Zwill has blood ties to the randy old bastard. Until you showed up, I thought we were doomed."

"And you want me to fight her?" Maduin knew enough now. It would be a full moon in a little more than a week, and then Lilith would come on her magic steed again. And this time, there would be an Esper waiting to greet her. But what if he proved too weak?

"Yes, I want you to fight her, Maduin. I feel like a coward telling you to do this, but this isn't a fight for a mere man like me, Stradivari or not."

"What if I fall to her power as well? I may be an Esper, but I am still a man too, with the feelings of a man. If she is as beautiful as you say, what's to stop her from putting me under whatever spell she's casting?"

"That's what Captain Delphino's here for. She arrived just before the last full moon to warn me that Leviathan had been seen in the northern seas, and after the thing with Lilith, she's stuck around to see this through." Ole Bull smiled at the Captain. "We Stradivari stick together. All of us. North or South, it doesn't matter, especially now. She was going to try and fight the bitch herself, with the Lady Blunt by her side, and maybe Servais if he showed up in time."

"But Servais brought a surprise along." Maduin said, finishing the tale. "Me."

"Yep. And now that I've seen what you can do, I think we might have a chance. You're still green, but we have a week to train you, and I guarantee I will get you looking like a proper Stradivari by then, or my name isn't Ole Bull!"

Maduin did not smile. "I am not a Stradivari, nor am I a weapon to be pointed and fired. I will not kill for you."

Ole Bull's smile faltered a bit, but Delphino's only widened, her thin lips showing sharp teeth and a sharp, red tongue. "And what do you think this Demon Wife will do when she finds you, Esper? And she will find you, make no mistake. She will hunt you down like a beast and make you join her, or die trying. Whether she is an Esper herself or not, she will make you fight, and make you kill." Delphino licked her cracked lips, unaccustomed to so much talking. "One week from now, when the tide is at its highest, you will fight and you will kill, Esper of No One. That is inevitable. The only question is who will die and who will live when the full moon rises. I intend to live."

No one said anything after Delphino's speech. It was obvious that the meeting was over, and Maduin's fate had been decided before he ever came to Zwill. He hated the Stradivari for that, and he found himself hating Delphino in particular, but could not say why. She was absolutely right, and her words were nothing more than cold, hard truth. There was no hate, no evil in them, but Maduin couldn't help the way he felt. Perhaps it was her myserious connection to Captain Bismark, perhaps the way she had handled Elphis, and agreed with the Lady Blunt about Elphis joining the Stradivari. Perhaps it was simply because she was a Stradivari, a killer.

"C'mon Elphis, let's get off this ship." Maduin managed through his seething emotions.

"But!" Elphis started, but Maduin didn't let her finish.

"Now!"

He gripped the chair too hard as he got up and splintered the backboard into pieces. Elphis jumped up and away from his accidental destruction and stepped on something beside the chair. It was the carving the Lady Blunt had been working on while she was waiting for "Lord Ham" to show himself.

Elphis didn't seem to know what it was, only being able to feel it and not see it. But she could sense its general shape. "Look at this Maydune. It feels like a little wooden man."

She handed it to him carefully, afraid he would break it like the chair. She wasn't frightened of his act of destruction. Since she had joined him, he had accidentally crushed a great many things with his unpredictable strength; but never her, never Kumiro. She trusted him even in his anger and frustration to protect her. The incident with the chair had already been forgotten, and now she was worried about the little doll.

"Don't break it Maydune." She chastised the towering Esper, sounding like a mother handing a new toy to a child. Maduin couldn't help but smile as he felt his emotions settle down. Elphis always had that effect on him.

"What is it?" Maduin asked, partly to himself, as he inspected the wooden figurine. "It looks like a man. It's actually very good. I didn't know the Lady Blunt could carve something like this. I wonder who it is?"

"Lord Dunn-Raven."

Maduin looked up at Captain Delphino, who was still sitting patiently in her chair, behind her desk.

"She really cares about him, doesn't she? More than just as one Stradivari to another." Maduin said.

"Yes. We are not allowed to love in the Stradivari. Not allowed parents, children, or lovers. Our loyalty must be to the Stradivari and nothing else. So you see, the Lady Blunt would never admit to her feelings for Dunn-Raven, even to herself, but there they are, in your hands."

"I see," was all Maduin could think of to say. Suddenly it felt wrong to be holding such a personal object.

Reading his mind, or so he thought, Delphino responded. "Keep it. As a reminder that she is human just like the rest of us. We are killers when we need to be, but we are still human beings. We are not monsters." She smiled her most gruesome smile. "Well, most of us are not monsters. If you stay with us long enough, you may meet some Stradivari that make the Lady Blunt seem positively charming." At Maduin's raised eyebrow, she added, "Fair warning."

Ole Bull couldn't help but chuckle at that, and with a groan he uncorked himself from the tight chair he had been sitting in. "Well then, on that pleasant note, I think we should be leaving, Captain. Maduin, Elphis, and Kumiro of course, if you would join me at my mansion, we can get you ready for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Maduin asked, knowing full well the answer and dreading it.

"Training!" Ole Bull said gleefully, a smile not unlike Delphino's on his face now. "I have to let my hands heal for a day, but in the meantime I have some friends I'd like you to spar with. Real beasts, they are! Haha!"

Maduin grimaced as he followed Ole Bull from the room, Elphis in one hand and Kumiro in the other.

"And you will pay me back for that chair, Esper!" Delphino's cracked voice echoed from behind him, laughingly.

And outside, a faint humming noise was the only sign that Zona, Seeker of Moloch, had been watching the entire meeting through the porthole, invisible to all.

"Buzz off," Delphino said to no one, motionless as ever while she studied the maps of Zozo alone in her cabin.

Zona started in surprise, and vanished into the sky.


	104. Red Tide, 'Running With the Bull'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.8 - Running With the Bull**

By the end of the first day of training, Maduin knew he would never make it as a Stradivari, had he still been human. Whether he could even keep up with them as an Esper was still a matter of doubt.

The previous night had been a respite from his struggles while Ole Bull enjoyed himself in traditional Zwill fashion. It was a night filled with feasting, song and dance in the Harcourt mansion, a public celebration in honor of Servais's arrival. The party had been thrown together for Servais in public, but privately the real celebration among the Stradivari was for Maduin's presence. No one doubted Servais's talents, but it was the magical Esper everyone in the know was talking about. He had been snuck onto the grounds amidst the drunken uproar, and treated like royalty by Ole Bull's servants. It was a dizzying experience for Maduin, who had never been much of a party-goer as a human, and was sorely out of practice with socializing since becoming an exiled Esper.

The night whirled by in a tornado of wine, women, and song. When Maduin was awoken at the crack of dawn by the howling of a wolf, he had trouble remembering the events of the previous night at all. The howling wolf, however, sent chills down his back as he remembered his nights in the caves of Narsille. It sounded too much like Cerberus for his comfort.

Kumiro was up and flying around him nervously with little squeaks of terror. The little moogle knew those howls as well, and was in no mood for such surprises. It flew around the luxurious bedroom in a huff, giving off little puh's and peh's as it held its head tight. The unfortunately adorable creature had been the subject of much fondling and fluffing the previous night, both by Elphis and the ecstatic party-goers. A moogle was a rare sight outside of the frozen north, and it was only by sampling more wine than was good for it that Kumiro had managed to keep calm amidst the flurry of gawkers and fondlers. Dealing with curious bystanders as Indie's pet had been annoying at times, but it was nothing like this.

Elphis remained asleep through the howls, having partied too hard for her tender age and weakened condition. Despite her exhaustion, Maduin was pleased. The fatherly Esper had ordered her to enjoy herself with the regular citizens of Zwill, apart from his own sequestered celebration. She had argued a bit, but the smell of good food eventually won her over. If there was one thing Maduin did not want Elphis to become, it was a pariah like himself. He would not let his inability to enjoy the company of regular humans keep her from doing the same. She had been treated poorly by her fellow man her whole life, and Maduin wanted to make sure she could still enjoy normal life with normal people whenever possible. From the breathless tales of dancing, singing, and general camaraderie and good will that she had related to him as she fell asleep in his arms, it seemed the people of Zwill had taken a liking to the precocious blind girl. And for that, Maduin was thankful.

The wolf at their door was anything but friendly, though, and Maduin was up and ready to fight whatever bloodthirsty monster might be waiting for him just outside. When the door burst open and Ole Bull came barging in, Maduin dropped his guard in relief. But when a giant blood-stained wolf leaped into the room behind him and pounced on the Esper, he was caught completely defenseless, and was sent sprawling against the bed.

"Down boy!" Ole Bull said between laughs.

Maduin staggered up from his embarrassing position, scowling at the laughing bull and grinning wolf. "What's this about?"

"Training partner for the day," Ole Bull grinned. "Say hello to Jupiter."

"Jupiter" was the largest wolf Maduin had ever seen, twice as large as any Lobo from the north. And its fur was streaked copper and vermillion, a swirling storm of red with one especially dark spot on its side that looked like an old wound healed over. There were other patches of slightly different colored fur all over the beast where it had been bitten, slashed at, gored, and even shot. These were all signs of a beast that had seen its fair share of battles.

"What kind of dog is this? And...training partner?" Maduin did not like the sound of that.

"Jupiter's an old friend of mine and the most loyal pet you could ask for," Ole Bull said as he scratched the dog's tattered left ear. "Dragonetti brought him up from the South a long time ago as a gift. Said it was a prime Red Fang specimen, bred from Red Baron himself. The old mutt's been by my side ever since. I guess you could call him an honorary Stradivari! Haha!"

The dog huffed happily as it sat on its haunches next to the towering Ole Bull. The two seemed a perfect match, both giants among man and beast. And both killers, from the looks of the blood-stained wolf. Red Fang was as apt a name for the thing as any.

"Is that blood on him?" Maduin ventured, not wanting to really know the answer.

"Yeah, but only a little." Ole Bull glanced at the dog without a sign of horror. "He likes to hunt wild game for his meals. Won't eat dog food or anything like that. Can't say I blame him. If I wasn't supposed to be a civilized mayor, I'd be out hunting for my breakfast too, just like the good old days!"

The giant man thumped his exposed belly and guffawed. His hands were still wrapped in bandages, but he didn't seem to be in pain. At the sound of his bellowing, Elphis shook herself awake and rubbed her unseeing eyes.

"What's all that noise? Is there still a party? I'm still sleepy, Maydune. Tell them to go away."

"No, I'm afraid it's time to get up. C'mon." Maduin nudged the girl and she groaned.

"And what's that smell? It smells like a big smelly dog." Elphis scrunched up her nose and grimaced uncertainly. "And...blood."

"Don't worry, that's just Jupiter, Ole Bull's pet. He's scary, but I think he's friendly." Maduin looked at Jupiter sitting beside his master, tongue lolling from its wide grin. Despite its fearsome frame, the face was just like the tame Lobo pet dogs he had seen in Antissa. "He is friendly, right?" Maduin said after studying the creature.

"As friendly as I am!" Ole Bull said with as toothy a grin as his hound.

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Maduin sighed and motioned for them to leave the room. It was time to get this training started, whatever it was. Elphis bounced behind him, one hand in his and one hand petting the trotting dog. She seemed to have decided there was no harm in the huge beast. Kumiro flew higher than usual, and still emitted the occasional peh whenever the dog looked up at it.

Outside in the barren field that was used as a training ground, Maduin saw another unpleasant surprise. The Lady Blunt's slim figure was languishing along the wooden fence that separated the grounds from the rest of the area, a wolf-like smile on her thin lips. As usual, she was fidgeting with a dagger in her hand, twisting it through her fingers in complicated motions that made the blade appear to swim in and out of her grasp.

"Don't tell me you're my training partner, too."

"Oh, heavens no!" The Lady laughed her sharp laugh and flung her dagger straight at Maduin's head. It whistled by his ear so fast he couldn't have caught it even if he had known it was coming. Instead of thudding into the door behind him, it was caught by Ole Bull's thick hand with an equally lightning-fast gesture. "We want you to actually live long enough to see the full moon, don't we?"

"Now, now, Fey," Ole Bull clucked, tossing the dagger back to her lazily. "Why don't you go off and enjoy the day somewhere? We all know _you_ don't need any training. No need to rub it in."

The Lady looked offended, and slightly embarrassed. Maduin never saw her more discomfited than when she was around Ole Bull. "I think I'll stay right here and watch the fun. Zwill is so _boring_ when there's no fighting going on. When's the next tournament, anyways?"

Ole Bull crinkled his brow, half-hidden by his vomammoth helm. "You know full well we've suspended such things until we get this mess straightened out. Besides, you always win. Just give yourself a trophy or something."

The Lady Blunt wilted at her superior's retort, and dropped back to her lounging position along the fencepost. "Bah. You can really be a _bore_ sometimes. And yes, that is a pun, Lord Ham."

"Don't let her get to you, Maduin," Ole Bull whispered, or at least did his best attempt, to Maduin. "She's here because she has nowhere else to go. Without Lord Dunn-Raven around she's-,"

Another dagger flew at Ole Bull before he could finish, and again he caught it, even with his head turned to Maduin. Lady Blunt's voice trailed after it. "Enough talk. Get on with your so-called training."

Maduin looked around, wondering who else might have decided to eavesdrop. "Is Servais around as well?"

The Lady laughed again. "Him? He's probably still snoring away in some bar. He made a fine batch of Over Grunk from those Paraladia vines you two nearly killed yourselves over."

"Aye, that was a fine batch," Ole Bull crooned as he remembered the previous night's festivities. "And no, Servais won't be joining us the way he drank last night. It's just you and Jupiter today."

Jupiter barked once and ran up to the Lady Blunt. She tapped his nose with the hilt of one of her daggers and he snatched at it like a buzzing fly before running back to Ole Bull. Seeing the fiery-haired Lady get along with the equally fiery Red Fang came as no surprise to Maduin. They seemed even more a fit than the wolf and Ole Bull.

"What about the bears?" the Lady asked.

"Bears?" Maduin gulped.

"Tomorrow. He's not ready for them yet. Today's just a warm-up."

"Bears? Maduin asked again, not happy with the way they were talking.

"Tomorrow," Ole Bull repeated. "Don't worry, if you can handle a giant fire-breathing dog, you candle a couple Ipooh."

Maduin wasn't sure he liked the idea of fighting wild animals instead of people, but he suspected no person besides a Stradivari would be willing to spar with an Esper. "Where do we begin?" he asked.

Ole Bull looked him up and down, nodding to himself. "From what Fey's told me, this Cerberus you two fought basically moved like my Jupiter, only a lot bigger. A dog is a dog after all. She said the way you handled him was appalling, so let's start with basic tactics against a four-legged beast like a wolf. Big or small, it's the same thing when you get down to fundamentals..."

Fundamentals. That was a word Maduin would have drilled into him more times than he cared to think about over the rest of the day, and for the rest of the week. It seemed to be Ole Bull's favorite word, and there was no question that Maduin lacked even the fundamental knowledge of martial arts. He grappled with Jupiter for hours trying to listen to Ole Bull's never-ending advice on what to do and what not to do. But he was not a fighter, and soon that became obvious.

"Enough."

Ole Bull called back the frisky Jupiter to give Maduin a rest after several hours of constant wrestling with the brute. The wolf wasn't tired in the least, but Maduin was barely able to stand up. He felt like he was expending more energy holding back his inhuman strength so as to not kill the wolf than he was actually fighting with it. If he truly wanted to, he could have flung the wolf clear out of the training ground with one hand. That was not the point of the exercise though...or perhaps it was? His suspicions were confirmed when Ole Bull nodded with apparent satisfaction.

"Good. I wanted to see if you could stand and fight without wrecking the place. Power's no good if you can't control it. I don't want my Zwill being destroyed by the very person I've brought in to save it. Got it?"

"Yes," Maduin panted. "But if I have to burn myself out just holding back, I won't be much good in a real fight. I need to be able to guide the fight away from populated areas."

"No!" Ole Bull roared. "You can't always dictate the battleground, and I guarantee this Lilith will try her best to keep the fight here in town precisely because she knows you can't fight to your fullest here. Learn to fight without losing control. That is the most fundamental essence of the martial arts. Control."

"Sorry. I suppose you're right."

"Damn straight!" Ole Bull heaved. Maduin couldn't help be see his Captain in the puffed up Ole Bull. The two would get along marvelously, he was sure.

"I wouldn't smile yet, Esper," the Lady called out. "How about your ice magic? How well can you control that in the heat of the moment?"

Maduin was half-way towards conjuring an icicle to fling at the woman when Ole Bull put a steady hand on his arm. "Tomorrow," he said. "No magic today."

"I'm afraid my magic is really all I have to offer you. You said you didn't need my strength."

"We don't, but it's best to see how well you carry yourself physically before getting into things I don't even know how to measure. You know more about this magic stuff than I do, and I don't want to go jumping into it without thoroughly testing your fundamentals." The proud warrior wouldn't admit it, but the way he rubbed his bandaged hands told Maduin the man was regretting testing his magic so recklessly on the ship.

"_Boring_," the Lady Blunt called out one last time before hopping off the fence and marching back into the mansion.

"Go get 'em!" Elphis yelled from safely beyond the fenced in field, delighted in watching her hero fight, however poorly. At least someone was having a good time.

"Fundamentals...," echoed Maduin gloomily to himself, turning to face the eager Red Fang again. It would be a long day.

And tomorrow...bears.


	105. Red Tide, 'Life, Death, Magic'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.9 - Life, Death, Magic**

"What is magic?"

That had been Ole Bull's characteristically fundamental first question on the next day of Maduin's training. It was a question Maduin had asked himself numerous times since being born again as a being made of magic. It was a question he was sure many people would ask for years to come, as the new force swept over the land and changed it forever. And at the moment, Maduin was still unsure just what it was, and what he could do with it.

Ole Bull intended to change that, right here, right now.

"What is magic?" he repeated while Maduin struggled to concentrate.

A giant claw came slashing across Maduin's face while he thought about a way to put his scant knowledge into words. A savage bite crunched down on his forearm as he waved off the hairy paw, but Maduin tried his best to keep his mind on Ole Bull's questions and not the twin bears attempting to tear him limb from limb.

"Magic is the essence of our world," he said, letting his body fight back and his mind wander. This was Ole Bull's way. The body knows how to fight, so let it. The more you thought about fighting, the more likely you were to make a mistake. For a human, that meant getting hurt. For an Esper, that meant hurting others.

"Everything is made of magic on some level." Maduin tried to remember everything Genju had ever said about magic. And Doom as well. Genju had been happy to talk to what he thought was the real Maduin during the last legs of their return trip to Narsille. He had been talking to a monster controlled by Doom, but Maduin had been there inside his prison of a body, listening all the same. Doom, too, had said much on the subject, although not in a kindly way and usually only in vague hints. He liked to lord the power, His Power as he put it, over his captive. But now that power was Maduin's power, and he intended to use everything he knew about it against his former Master.

A growl broke Maduin's concentration, and for a moment he almost swatted full-force at the red blur that rushed at him from the corner of his vision. He pulled his blow at the last moment, and only ended up knocking the blur to the ground, instead of sending it flying. Jupiter would jump into the melee at a silent command from Ole Bull every so often, just to keep Maduin on his toes.

"Focus!" Ole Bull shouted as Maduin stopped speaking. Jupiter bounced up happily, none the worse for wear. "Now then, continue."

Maduin gather his thoughts again, blocking a slobbery mouth with his hand. The drooling Ipooh bear tried to bite through his stone-hard fist, but couldn't. The sensation was still quite unpleasant, and the bear's breath smelled distinctly of honey.

"Magic exists inside everything, not just Espers. It's usually such a small amount that it can't be seen or felt. Just enough to control the balance of nature. At least, that's the way it was before Crescent Mountain exploded and wild magical energy started flooding out of the hole in the world in left behind." Maduin remembered the image of the mountain erupting in a cataclysm of flame from Sade's explosive force. There was nothing left but a gaping hole in the earth where the mountain, and the Ultima Gate inside it, used to be. He had barely escaped the fury of Sade's wrath that time, and wondered if he would ever be able to stand against such power, training or no.

"I heard about that. I've had Bugs back from Greffuhle's agents in that area." Ole Bull said, surprising Maduin with his familiarity with even that faraway land. "They say that entire island is now glowing and covered in a thick fog. There's a massive lava flow covering most of the island, and no one can set foot near it. Servais tried to fly over it, but some sort of cyclone kept blowing him away from the spot you say Crescent Mountain used to be. I don't know what happened there, but it was big and it's still happening."

"Very big. The birth of real magic, you could say. I'm surprised you have people out that far. Crescent Island is pretty remote, don't you think? What use do the Stradivari have way out there?"

"None usually. It's just considered part of Greffuhle's territory, should the need arise to go there. She's the Axelrod of the East, and all Stradivari concerns in that part of the world go through her. Until now, none of us had ever gone out that way besides Servais. Now, tell me more about this real magic of yours. What makes you so special, Esper?"

"Like I said, magic exists on a small scale everywhere, even in you. But it's usually invisible and simply a part of the world."

"Like chakra," Ole Bull mused to himself.

"Hm? What's that?"

"Nothing, just thinking out loud. Continue."

"Anyways, I can use magic on a larger scale, but that is only because part of me is connected to the Crystal Furnace at the heart of the Nexus." Maduin explained the complicated idea as best he could, but he felt he had lost Ole Bull. A puzzled look from Ole Bull told him the man had no idea what he was talking about.

"Hmm...I'm not sure myself what it means. All I know is that magic comes from a place beyond our world, a connecting world that exists between our world and the world of the gods, and everywhere else. It is a place of pure energy, pure thought, and normally only the gods can shape and control its power, and then send that power into the mortal world. The Crystal Furnace is the center of that place, and the source of all power. It's...ah, I really have no idea." Maduin stopped and tried to think about Genju's words, as well as his own experience before the Crystal Furnace. This was a subject the elder Esper was hesitant to talk about. "It's sort of like a...furnace...," Maduin couldn't help but laugh at his feeble description. But how do you explain something as beyond mortal comprehension as the burning heart of the entire universe?

"Go on, " Ole Bull said calmly. The two Ipooh stopped their assault at a motion from their master and waiting dumbly, licking their paws.

"It's difficult to put into words. I call it the center of the Nexus, but that's not true since the Nexus has no form or dimensions. It's not an actual furnace or any other kind of tangible object, either. It's like a twist in space...but it's _the_ twist in space at the center of all other space. Everything swirls around it, taking in its light. We live because we exist within the glow of the Furnace."

"Like the sun?" Ole Bull asked.

"Sort of, but it's not a thing out in space sending light to us. It's...ah, it's hard to explain. It's inside us as well as outside. It's everywhere, nowhere. The heart of every living thing is connected to the Crystal Furnace. I'm sorry, I know it doesn't make any sense."

_The Crystal is Light. It is not just a source of power for our world. It is the primal creative force of the universe, continually shedding its Light on us all and through us all. The gods are no exception. We did not forge the Crystal Furnace, it forged us. It is us. We are the Light. Never forget where you came from, mortals._

Maduin stopped, as did Ole Bull. The voice had spoken in his mind, faintly. And it seemed Ole Bull had heard it too. No one spoke. No one moved. No one breathed.

Elphis cleared her throat and mumbled tiredly from the sidelines, "That was Titan. He wanted you to hear him. He doesn't usually say so much." Elphis slumped down onto the ground outside the training ground and yawned. "Don't do that again, Titan. It made my head hurt, and now I'm sleepy. I'm going inside to take a nap."

Ole Bull looked at the little girl for a moment, then laughed out loud, shattering the quiet mood. "Quite a little girl you have there Maduin! And this Titan, he's your friend right? The one in the rock?"

"Yeah," Elphis yawned. "He doesn't like to talk to other people though. He says most people can't hear him."

"Well we sure heard him that time didn't we? Alright, you go on and rest. Jupiter! See the lady to her room."

The giant wolf leaped from Ole Bull to where Elphis was sitting on the ground and then lay down next to her. The girl giggled and let the big dog nuzzle her before climbing on its back. She rode the fearsome beast the same way she rode on Maduin's back so many times before - without fear or hesitation. To her, this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Yes, quite a girl there. I hate to say it but Grey and Fey have the right of her."

"Enough. Elphis is just a child." Maduin had regained his senses after that unexpected message from Titan. Was Titan looking at the Crystal Furnace himself as he spoke? The long-dead Esper was a formless spirit bound to the Nexus now that its body was gone, and who knows what kind of world he saw from his distant dreaming existence. The once-mighty Esper Herald could probably tell them a great deal about magic, if he was in the mood.

"I agree." Ole Bull stopped and scratched his beard. "There are children in the Stradivari, you know. She would be the youngest one since Solomon became our leader, I think, but not the only one."

"I said enough. She is not a killer, and I will die before I let anyone turn her into one."

Ole Bull stepped over to where Maduin was fuming and looked straight into the giant Esper's cold blue eyes, his eyes just as cold. "You know, I'm getting tired of you calling us killers as if that's all we do."

"Isn't it?" Maduin wouldn't let the big man intimidate him. He was still bigger.

"Some of us like our job more than others, it's true. But no one is asked to join our group because they like to kill."

"Then what are you, really?"

"We are a brotherhood. We're a family for people who have no family left. We take in those who have lost everything, and give them a reason to live. The killing just pays the bills."

"But why? Why do you have to be a bunch of mercenaries?" Maduin didn't understand. Besides the Lady Blunt, the Stradivari he had met seemed mostly benign, even friendly. But they were all killers. All of them.

"It's the way the Stradivari works. Always has. I don't make the rules, and I wouldn't change them even if I did. Solomon is the head Stradivari, and what he says is law for us. His predecessor said the same, and his before that. All the way back to Solomon the First."

"Solomon?" Maduin had itching recollection he had heard that name somewhere before.

"All the leaders of the Stradivari take the name Solomon. It's tradition. They say the founder of our order was named Solomon. That was over two thousand years ago now, I would think. We've been around, and we've always been the peacekeepers of the world."

"Is that what you call yourselves? Peacekeepers?" Maduin couldn't help but snort in disgust.

Ole Bull snorted right back. "Oh, you think you know everything? We keep peace when the law fails. We're the hidden hand of justice. When someone needs something done and their country or their king isn't willing to do it, they come to us. If they can pay, and if we decide it's worthy cause that won't upset the balance of a nation, we take it."

"It doesn't seem right that only the rich and powerful can take advantage of your, er, services. The poor are the ones who need your justice the most, if you can really call it that."

"The price is tailored to the customer," Ole Bull said, stepping back from Maduin. "Trust me, our prices are always fair. And usually the real cost is not in money." The big man turned and walked back to the stump he had been sitting on while Maduin trained. He slumped back onto it, and looked hard at Maduin.

"For the rich, our prices are staggeringly high. They come to us looking to right the wrongs of some petty argument, like a stolen treasure or a lover's quarrel. We make them feel the weight of their decisions on their souls if they still decide to go through with the kill after seeing our price. When the job is done, those kind never ask for our services again. The price is much too steep, if you get my meaning."

Maduin thought he did. Taking another's life always left its mark on the taker. He still felt the weight of Cassandra's death, and Cerberus as well, as hateful as that lost creature had been.

Ole Bull looked at Maduin differently now. "I see from the look on your face that you do understand what I mean, at least a little. Part of being a Stradivari is being able to bear that weight for others. But we don't bear it for the rich nearly as much. For the poor, we are much more forgiving, if their cause is a good one. If we feel it's a particularly foul injustice, we may even assist them for free. At least, that's the way we do things here in the North. Different Axelrods have different ways."

"I'm sure the Lady Blunt would have no problem killing for nothing." Maduin couldn't help but feel a tiny bit more sympathetic towards the group, but some of them he had no patience for. The only thing he saw when he thought of the Lady Blunt was a knife at Elphis's throat.

"She has no say in who she kills, at least for the Stradivari." Ole Bull said curtly. "I am the Axelrod of the North, and I decide on who dies and who lives by the Stradivari's hand for this part of the world."

Maduin suddenly realized something that had not occurred to him until now. Something very unsettling. "Did you send Agent Phantom after me?"

"Yes." The Stradivari did not flinch as he answered. "Your friend Sade came to one of my agents in Narsille, requesting one of ours to follow you and keep and eye on your activities. He made a very convincing argument for why you were a grave threat to the stability of the world. And he could pay."

"In that, I suppose he was right." Maduin had to concede that much, at least.

"Aye, I suppose he was." Ole Bull grinned sadly. "In case you were curious, our orders weren't to kill you unless you showed yourself to be a threat. I do not know what truly happened with Lord Dunn-Raven after he was sent to you. Our last report had him still following you into the Mordic, and then, nothing. I never gave the final order to kill you."

"He's Leviathan's thrall now, as far as I can guess. The Lady Blunt said there were reports of him showing up down south, in Jidorik."

"Unconfirmed reports, but she'll grab onto whatever she can. She's like a dog with a bloody bone when her mind's set on something."

"What would you do if she killed someone against your orders? Would you even care?" Ole Bull could say all he liked about proper processes and honor codes, but Maduin knew someone like the Lady would kill just for pleasure if she could get away with it.

"We try not to police our own kind too much. If she was that unstable, she would never have made it as a Stradivari. You have to understand that most of Fey's behavior is all a front. I won't deny she enjoys a good fight, and has a certain bloodlust, but she wouldn't kill an innocent person for no reason."

"She threatened to kill Elphis at knife-point back in Antissa."

"And I gave her a good talking to about that. Still, just trust her, and us, a little bit. All I can say is if a Stradivari ever truly got out of control and went on a rampage, we would do everything in our power to put them down. It's never happened in my lifetime, and I thank the gods for that. It's hard taking out one of your own, however mad they might be."

"I guess I don't have a choice for now but to trust you. I can't say I really do yet, though. At least not all of you."

"That's good. Some of us are worse than the Lady Blunt, and I fear what could happen if they lost their way. Just remember, all Stradivari have complicated, difficult pasts. We all struggle with our own demons in our own way, and the Stradivari exists as a safe haven for people like us - people with special skills and special needs and nowhere to go. I'm no different." Ole Bull softened his gaze and then stood up. "Enough of that. I'm supposed to be training you, not lecturing you. Now! Put up your dukes!"

Maduin had no time to think as the two Ipooh came charging towards him, their clumsy stupor broken. They were harmless oafs made tame by copious amounts of free honey when they were by themselves, but a simple command from Ole Bull flipped a switch that turned them into the ferocious animals they truly were.

"Let's get back on track. What is magic?" Ole Bull voice echoed once more from where he sat and watched, and thought about the future of his Zwill. Would Maduin be ready? Would he?

Tomorrow, he would find out just how much this magic could be used in real combat. It was definitely a force that could destroy the world, just as Sade had said when he had first come to them with his threats of doom and destruction. But in the right hands, magic could shape the world for the better. Maduin could be those hands. Or Elphis? Or perhaps somehow anyone could learn to use magic? Surely Elphis wasn't the only one capable of communing with Espers, dead or alive. Tomorrow, he would try and find out just what Maduin and magic could do for the Stradivari. And Elphis, too.

Ole Bull agreed the girl shouldn't yet be considered for their group or for combat of any kind. Children joined the Stradivari only out of dire need or a real fear of their special talents going uncontrolled, and he had never been asked to take any under his wing, thankfully. He had always had a soft spot for children, but he must think of his people as well. If it came down to life or death and only Elphis could save them, there was no doubt in his mind what he would do.

Deep inside a thick mountain of blankets far away from Ole Bull and Maduin, Elphis slept peacefully, unaware of the plans being weaved around her. Jupiter slept at the foot of the giant bed that was much too large for the little girl, and the Titan magicite glowed warmly in her hands. But the being inside was disturbed, and dreamed of an uncertain future he no longer had any control over. Magic was a force of life, and of death. Which way would the scales tip this time? Was there any way to stop the Crystalline Prophecy, or was Altimus right, as usual?

Titan looked inwards and outwards for an answer, hoping for some sign from the blazing Crystal Furnace he knew was all around him, giving him light and life in this world of darkness and nothingness. But the Crystal shed its light silently...


	106. Red Tide, 'The Magic Show'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

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**11.10 - The Magic Show**

When Maduin awoke the next morning, there was no Ole Bull to greet him, nor Jupiter. He instructed Elphis and Kumiro to stay in their room, and went towards the training ground on his own. The mansion itself was as enormous as its owner, and Maduin found he still had no idea how to get out of the sprawling building on his own.

"Excuse me," Maduin said to a passing servant he had seen before, "where's Ole Bull?"

"Master Harcourt is in town, taking care of business."

Well, Ole Bull _was_ the mayor of Zwill, after all. Sometimes Maduin forgot this little fact with all the time the man spent training him.

"Master Harcourt instructed us to tell you to wait for him in your room, if you would."

It would seem he was a prisoner in a gilded cage, then. He couldn't blame Ole Bull, though. For him to loiter about where a passing citizen might see his giant form could prove disastrous. The Esper returned to his room after getting lost again and needing to find another servant, and waited.

And waited.

By noon, he was becoming worried, and Elphis was getting antsy. She was not required to stay in their room, but she chose to stick by Maduin anyways. Food had been brought them, but the only thing he could get out of the servants was "Master Harcourt will be back soon, please be patient."

It was an hour later when Ole Bull finally made his appearance. He did not look happy.

"Sorry about that. We've wasted a lot of time that could have been spent training. Sometimes I hate being mayor."

"What happened?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." Ole Bull waved the problem off with one large hand. "Now then! Today we see what you really can do."

On the training ground, Maduin was surprised to see a large group of people standing outside the fencing, apparently waiting for him. There were several gasps as he lurched out of the doorway and straightened himself to his full height. Among the varied group, he could see Servais standing tall and proud, as well as Captain Delphino hunched in her vulture-feathered wolf's coat, but there was no sign of the Lady Blunt. Elphis sensed her friend the Captain nearby and ran off to meet her.

"What's this?" Maduin asked, frowning as he watched Elphis crawl through the fence to the old woman.

"Couldn't keep you a secret forever." Ole Bull sighed as he scanned the crowd. "Don't worry, there's no one here I don't trust to keep calm. Besides, old Lady Grey will stop any one who gets a little too rowdy. She's good with crowd control, heh."

"Are these all Stradivari?" Maduin looked at the hundreds of faces peering in at him. Some of them looked like warriors, some sailors, but most looked like normal, average people.

"Hell no!" Ole Bull laughed. "I don't think it'd be possible to gather this many of us in one place, even for something as special as you. No, these are just Zwill folk here to see the magic show they heard about."

"Magic show?"

"Full of questions, aren't you? Last night someone let slip that I had a secret weapon I was readying for the next time Lilith came down from the mountains. The whole town's in an uproar now because of her."

Maduin saw the pained look on Ole Bull's face as he finished, and knew he had let slip a detail he did not want the Esper to know. "Her? You mean the Lady Blunt, don't you? That's why she's not here, isn't it?"

"Enough." The tone in Ole Bull's voice brooked no argument. "The less said about last night's antics the better. We've wasted enough time as it is, and I intend to see just how powerful you are today."

From a leather pouch at his side, Ole Bull pulled out a pair of shining claws. They glimmered an icy blue in the sunlight, and Maduin knew they must be made of mythril.

"No animals today. Just me and you. And these." The fighter slid the claws over his hands and scraped the claws against each other. They looked extremely sharp, and extremely familiar.

"Are those...vomammoth claws?" Maduin studied the claws closely, following the natural curve from tip to knuckle. Save the golden-plated knuckle joints where the claws joined with leather gloves, they looked identical to the cruel talons Maduin had grappled with on the slopes of Narsille.

"Of course. Mythril claws using real vomammoth claws are the best for martial artists. Helps channel the natural flow of energy in the body. Rare as diamonds and hard to craft, not to mention dangerous to obtain, but the Blades of Zwill work with nothing less. These particular claws came from a bull vomammoth Servais brought down himself. Said it was the biggest he'd ever seen, although he might have just said that to convince me to take them."

Maduin was about to ask what the Blades of Zwill were, but Ole Bull raised a clawed hand and smiled. The claws _were_ the largest he'd ever seen from a vomammoth, so perhaps Servais wasn't exaggerating.

"The craftsmen of Zwill," Ole Bull said, guessing Maduin's next question. If there was one thing Maduin was, it was predictably inquisitive. "Old Zwill was a master weaponer, and his methods have been passed down from one generation to the next. Our reputation is so well known that all great weapon and armor smiths spend time here sooner or later, learning our secrets and passing on their own. Those who stay join the Blades and hone their craft to perfection. I daresay you won't find a better-armed city anywhere. Narsille might have had more guns and missiles, but nothing beats cold, hard metal when things get ugly. Perhaps if the Narsillians had proper weapons, they might have survived." Ole Bull grimaced. "Ah, sorry. Forgot you were from there."

"It's fine." Maduin found himself associating with his hometown less and less the more he saw it from the outside. "Perhaps you're right. We were told our army was the most advanced in the world, but I honestly never even saw a single soldier. I wonder if there even was an army at all."

"Oh, there were soldiers. As Stradivari, and especially as the Axelrod of the North, it was my business to know Narsille's capabilities. The soldiers were untrained kids in it for show mostly, and there were far less than there should have been. It was all about the machines with them. Who needs men when you have mechanized weapons that can fire themselves? I daresay Zwill has a larger standing army than Narsille did." Ole Bull looked at his claws with what Maduin thought was sadness. "Make no mistake, though. Narsille could have blown this entire town into bits if it felt like it. And all the swords and armor in the world wouldn't have made a difference."

"But none of that mattered in the end." Maduin wondered just what could have made a difference in Narsille. What could he have done to save his city? Was it just another inescapable fate, another piece in the game the gods were playing?

"No, Narsille had the perfect offense and defense from the outside. A wall massive enough to stop any invading army, and long range weapons that could destroy entire cities at the push of a button. No, your Sade knew what we Stradivari have always known about Narsille. The only way to bring it down was from within, and that's exactly what he did. To his own city, no less."

"Sade was a monster long before he became Crusader." Maduin shifted his weight and looked at the people eagerly waiting while they talked. It was hard to imagine Sade had once been one of them. A person, a human being. A man named Jehad with his own fears and weaknesses, but a human being all the same. Maduin had felt the last dreg of that humanity once, for one brief moment before it vanished forever.

"He's not the only monster now." Ole Bull said. "We've got our own Espers to deal with soon, so let's get started."

Ole Bull stepped back from Maduin and paced across the field to the other side. He nodded at Delphino and raised one claw into the air to signal the start of their training. Delphino nodded back and the crowd hushed in anticipation.

"First, fire off another one of those snowballs. The biggest one you can." The claws lowered into a fighting position. "Don't hold back and don't look away this time. I want you to watch and tell me what those Esper eyes of yours see, got it?"

Maduin nodded and swallowed his anxiety. He wasn't sure what difference a pair of claws would do against his attacks, but the old man seemed unworried. Of course, the old man always seemed unworried about his own condition.

"Right, here it comes." Maduin slowed his breathing and concentrated his energies into his outstretched hands. The wind swirled around his arms and collected into ice crystals between his palms. In a few seconds a large chunk of ice began turning in front of him, growing larger by the moment. He could hear the people of Zwill murmuring, but blocked them from his mind. Whether they thought he was a freak or a weapon or their last hope was up to them.

_Focus. Control. Think ice. Think of a blizzard. Think of the frozen cliffs of your home, not the stares of the people around you._

When the ball of ice was the size of a boulder larger than Maduin, the crowd's gasps were plainly growing less curious and more fearful. Something that size could easily veer off and strike them if Ole Bull wasn't able to stop it. The growing fear halted Maduin's efforts and he stopped, ready to fire. With perfect control of his body and mind, he could simply make the ice grow for as long as there was magic left in his body, but it required increasing concentration to maintain the spell the more energy he pumped into it. The palpable unease around him made it too difficult to maintain the mental control of anything larger, and he knew it.

_Don't overdo it. Ole Bull said as big as I can, but he doesn't understand the unpredictability of magic the way I do. It's not a muscle to be flexed as tightly as you can and then no more. It's a thought that can be shaped as far as your mind and spirit can take it. I could create a block of ice the size of his mansion and kill myself doing it, and lose control long before that. This is big enough. Let's see what he can do._

"Now!" Maduin yelled as he pushed the ice with his mind more than his body towards its target. It shot off like a cannonball, but eerily silent. The only sound was the sudden intake of breath from the crowd as the magic show finally began in earnest. Would they see their warrior mayor flattened by this secret weapon of his, or would they be flattened by it themselves?

As Ole Bull had instructed, Maduin did not look away from the impact as he had before. The boulder whistled through the air straight at the old man, dwarfing him as it approached. Just as it reached Ole Bull's waiting hands, Maduin saw something he was not expecting. A bright flash of white light surrounded the man and then shrunk down to a pin prick before exploding outwards from his fists. The light flowed along the claws like drops of water down a knife, then struck the center of the mass of ice just as it touched the tips of the claws. It was a perfect strike with a practiced thrust, but no mere claw could do what Maduin had seen.

A resounding crack filled the area, and the block of ice was split in two cleanly down the middle. The two pieces fell heavily to the ground with a dull thud, then broke into a thousand smaller pieces. It was impossible, but there was no doubt what he had just witnessed. This man had just used magic himself, but very different from an Esper's. It seemed like it was a combination of physical force and magical energies. The question was, did he even know what he had just done?

Ole Bull shook his claws and laughed uproariously. The crowd cheered as their leader proved himself once again. Even Elphis laughed and cheered along with the rest, even though she hadn't seen the marvel like the others had.

"That stung like a son of a gun, but it was a good strike. I couldn't have asked for a cleaner target, and the energy around here was definitely more than I've ever felt before."

"How did you do that?" Maduin stared at the man, wondering just who he really was. No human could have produced that white light without help from a magical source.

"Trade secret. But if it makes you feel better, I've split real stones larger than that with these claws. Never had to try out my technique on a moving boulder that size, though. Today was a first. Heh, thanks for the practice."

Maduin was not satisfied. "That was magic you used. Are you aware of that?"

"I am now that you just confirmed it. That's why I wanted you to watch. What did you see?"

"A white light surrounded you, then shrunk to just surround your fists. When you struck the boulder, the light exploded from your fists and through the ice like a knife. A knife made of magic."

"You need to pay attention to your own words, Esper," Ole Bull said slyly. "You said magic is everywhere, in everything, right? Even me?"

"Yes, but in far too small quantities to be used in any way. What I saw coming from you is comparable to what is always around an Esper. I saw the same kind of aura surrounding Cerberus, as well as the other Espers. I assume it surrounds me as well."

"Well, I'll take your word for it. I can't see anything around you right now, and I don't see anything when I channel chakra, but I feel it, so I know it's there. And you do always have a coldness around you, so maybe that's your chakra."

"Chakra is what you call your magic?"

"No, it's what I call life energy. It's the power of nature. It's everywhere, in small quantities, as you say. I simply gather that energy from around me and within me, and then release it."

"But how? You have no connection to the Nexus like an Esper. Without that, you can't handle magical energies, no matter how small they are."

"So you say, and yet here I am. I think you don't know everything about magic, Esper."

Obviously he didn't, and that was unsettling. As a scientist, he wanted to know everything about the properties of magic and Espers, but without another Esper, and time to study it in peaceful conditions, that was impossible. He wondered where Genju was right now, and whether his ancient wisdom could account for what he had just seen. The white light had looked similar to Genju's aura, although far dimmer.

"Can all Stradivari do that?" Maduin asked. Perhaps this was the secret of their incredible skill.

"I don't know." Ole Bull shrugged. "That's something only you and those eyes of yours could tell me. What I do is my own secret art, passed down and improved upon by martial artists before me. It's not a Stradivari talent, it's a Harcourt talent. Old Zwill could channel chakra as well. There are other chakra users out there, too, but none of them are Stradivari. I think you'll just have to accept that us mere mortals are sometimes capable of things you can't explain."

_I won't accept that._ Maduin thought to himself. Someday he would figure out how Ole Bull had harnessed magic, or chakra, or whatever it was he called it. There was no time now, though. He would simply have to tuck this experience away for later. There was much he did not know about this world, but he was learning more every day.

"So, what do you call that ice ball anyways?" Ole Bull asked, turning away from the subject of his own skills. "Every good technique has a name. It's an unspoken rule of combat."

"A name?" Maduin had no idea. He just did it, he didn't call it anything. "It's just magic. Ice."

"Ice? That's boring. What about Blizzard? It looks like you're conjuring a blizzard when you ready the spell, so how about that?"

Maduin did not really care what he called it. "Whatever you want to call it I suppose. Although I don't think it really deserves a name. It's just magic."

Ole Bull laughed. "Just magic, eh? As if magic is 'just' anything. Blizzard fits. In fact, I think I'll call my own counter to it 'Blizzard Fist'. How 'bout that?"

"As you say."

"Alright, let's see what else you can do." Ole Bull straightened up again and got into his fighting stance. "That's a nice trick, but I think it won't do much good against Lilith's hell horse. What that thing did would have sliced right through your Blizzard and kept on going straight through you. I tried stopping it with my claws and my chakra just like your attack, but it struck me down all the same. I've been hit by lightning before, and that didn't feel like a regular lightning strike."

"Magic, right?" Maduin wondered what kind of Esper this horse was. Lightning seemed to be the typical type of magic Leviathan and the other Espers of Astarte utilized, just like Maduin and his ice magic. How would he stand against the power of lightning, though?

"Powerful magic," Ole Bull said. "It just hit me and I felt like I was drowning in light. But it was a cold light. Real lightning is white hot and it doesn't fill you with dread like this did. It was the worst thing I have ever felt, no doubt about it."

"So what do you want me to do about it? I can make ice in different shapes and sizes, but it's still ice. It's all I know how to do."

Ole Bull nodded. "I thought as much. You're all about ice. Seems to be your element. Well, show me everything you know how to do with it, then, and I'll decide how useful you are."

So Maduin spent the rest of the day and the next two days creating every kind of ice he knew about. He made ice balls, ice spears, ice daggers, walls of ice, pillars of ice, even ice arrows that he rained from the sky like hailstorm. He conjured icy winds and freezing cold auras that sent the crowd shivering, as well as snowflakes and frosts that covered the ground and killed the plant life around him. After he had exhausted every shape and form of ice he could think of, Ole Bull stepped in and offered his own suggestions. With Ole Bull's experience in warfare, he managed to do things with his ice he had never thought about before.

Surrounding his fist in a thick gauntlet of ice, he was able to used it to augment his hand-to-hand strength. He carefully extended the ice in the shape of claws that mimicked Ole Bull's mythril claws, and actually sparred with the master martial artist for a bit. The crowd had only grown as the days went on, and there was applause whenever Maduin managed to land a hit on the seasoned warrior, which was not often. Maduin suspected Ole Bull let him connect every once in a while just to give the crowd something to watch.

Another technique that Maduin found interesting was the crafting of weapons and armor from his ice. Swords, shields, helmets, even an ice hammer. It was by far the most difficult thing he had been asked to do, and it used up far more energy controlling the shape to such an artistic degree than it seemed it was worth, but Ole Bull was pleased. He gave flashy names to everything Maduin managed to conjure, and soon the Esper stopped trying to remember them all.

"I'm afraid I don't see the use of these ice weapons," Maduin huffed after finally managing to create an exact replica of Servais's multi-pronged crossblade out of solid ice on the third day of the magic show. The weapon was passed from one hand to the next throughout the crowd, with appreciative ooh's and ah's as they admired the symbol of their city carved in magical ice. By the time the blade had made it back to Maduin, it was melted down to the hilt. It wouldn't fare much better in battle.

"That's fine," Ole Bull said. "I don't intend to fight with them. I'm just seeing how well you can channel your chakra. You're doing much better now than when we started. It looks like you never really thought about what you were doing. You just sent your energy flying out in bursts of raw power. Am I right?"

"It's not really chakra, it's just my own magic. I didn't know there was any more to be done with it."

Ole Bull snorted. "Of course it's chakra. Different from mine, but it's your own life energy, isn't it? If you used it all up, you'd die, right?"

"Yes," Maduin admitted.

"Then it's your chakra. Anyways, the more control you have over it, the better off you'll be in battle. Remember, control is everything."

"It won't help me against this Lilith and her horse, though. All the control in the world won't do any good if she can just cut through my ice with her own magic."

"You're right, of course," Ole Bull said as he scratched his thumb along an ice sword. It was razor sharp, but still ice. He felt he could make some kind of weapon out of it that would last in battle, but it would take time, and that was something he did not have. No, there was not nearly enough time for such things anymore. "I want to see something else. Something you haven't shown me yet."

Maduin sighed. "I've shown you everything I know how do."

"No, not yet. Fey told me about something else she saw you do that I think might be the key to victory. It wasn't just an ice attack, it was an explosion of pure life energy in all directions."

"I don't..."

But he did. When he had been at his lowest, and completely overcome with emotion, he had summoned a powerful aura of magic that was not just ice, but the cold energies given to him by Doom mixed with the deeper spark of life that had always been his own, even when he was human. Only in his deepest despair or highest anger could he even attempt to grasp this core of pure magic, and he did it without thinking. The pain of being rejected by Mae had triggered the magical burst back in Antissa, and the loss of his world had triggered it in Narsille. Genju had tapped into it as well to create the magical barrier that allowed them to withstand the onslaught of Sade's power on Crescent Island and the maelstrom of Adamastor's magical storm above Narsille. It was the most potent manifestation he was capable of, but it was not something he could do on command.

"I can't," he muttered.

"You can't or you won't?" Ole Bull said, his voice as icy as the melting sword in his hands. "Fey saw what you did after the battle, even if no one else did. She said it lit up the whole sky and would have flattened Antissa if you hadn't been so high up. It nearly knocked her flat on her back, along with the other people of Antissa. They didn't know what it was, but she saw it all."

"Where is she? I haven't seen her since the first day." Maduin did not want to talk about what he had done back in Antissa.

"She is where she belongs, and that's all you need to know." Ole Bull glanced back over the crowd to make sure of his statement, then looked right back at Maduin. "Don't change the subject on me. You need to figure out how to do that attack or we're all doomed, understand? Now think."

"I don't know!" Maduin said, his voice rising. "It was just pure emotion, pure chaos. I just let my feelings explode, without trying to control anything. You don't want me to do that here, do you? I thought control was everything?"

"I do. No games anymore. It's time I saw the full measure of your abilities. No matter the cost."

"Even if it kills me? Kills you? Kills everyone?"

Ole Bull stepped away from Maduin and looked at the crowd, then glanced at Servais and Delphino, and looked long and hard at Elphis, tucked away at Delphino's feet and listening quietly to everything that was happening.

"We do what we must."

Ole Bull nodded and Delphino nodded back. She let out a shrill whistle and the crowd grew silent and still, and then began to thin out. In a few minutes the entire crowd had dispersed quietly and calmly, as if the magic show had ended. They didn't seem hypnotized or under Delphino's control to Maduin. They left with low murmurs of conversation and happy, contented looks on their faces, a perfectly normal exit one would expect at the end of a perfectly normal magic show that had ended perfectly normally. Had she somehow tricked them into thinking the show was over and it was time to go home?

What are you doing?" Maduin asked, unnerved by the suggestive powers Delphino seemed to possess.

"The show's over for them." Ole Bull said in an oddly toneless voice. "Delphino is good at making people believe what they already want to believe. Magic is difficult to believe in, so she simply played on their preconceptions. She made them think we were just putting on a show, since that's what most of them thought already. The show's over, and so, they left."

Maduin still didn't like it. What Delphino was doing sounded too much like mind control for his comfort. "So, what now?"

Ole Bull was still looking at Delphino, now alone with Elphis still standing at her feet. Servais was still standing at another corner of the field, also looking at Delphino silently. Nobody was smiling.

"Now we see what you can do, Esper."

The metal wire flashed from Delphino's long fingers with lightning speed and deadly accuracy. In less than a second the wire was stretched taut against Elphis's neck, ready to strangle her if she resisted. But she did not resist, or even react to the sudden assault from her trusted friend. It seemed as if she did even know what was happening around her.

"What are you doing?" Maduin roared again in shock. He leaped forward to try and grab Elphis, but Delphino tightened her grasp on the girl's neck and shook her head in warning. He skidded to a halt, trembling with barely controlled anger.

"We are doing what we must. Surely you haven't forgotten who we are?" Ole Bull said, not moving from his position. "We won't hurt her, and she won't even remember this happening."

Maduin turned around and faced Servais, still standing silently on the other side of the field. "And you? You'll stand there and let this happen?"

Servais said nothing.

"Show us your power, Maduin." Ole Bull said. "Show us your anger right here, right now, or none of us will survive the coming battle."

"Damn you Stradivari!" Maduin fumed, turning from one merciless face to the next. Kumiro was nowhere to be seen, and he wondered what they had done to conveniently remove him from this show as well. "You're all the same. Killers." Maduin spat.

"We never pretended to be anything else. It is you who keeps fooling himself into thinking we're all soft-hearted cowards like yourself. We are killers, and you are too. You just don't want to admit it. Will the girl die for your foolish pride?" Delphino's cracked voice rolled over the field with surprising volume, and cut through him like the garrote wire in her hands.

"Don't try to play mind games with me!" Maduin yelled, suspecting she was trying to control him with her mysterious hypnotic powers.

"I'm not doing anything," Delphino shot back. "You're quite adept at making yourself believe whatever it is that you must to sleep at night. You were made for one reason, to fight. You can deny that existence all you want in times of peace, but this is war, Esper. And in war the people need warriors. You are our only hope, and we will survive, no matter what. Let go of your pride and _fight back._"

The wire stretched even tighter against Elphis's neck, and Maduin could see the girl was beginning to have trouble breathing. Amazingly, she still seemed oblivious to her own suffering. Would they really let her die like this, without even being aware of her own death?

Maduin could feel his anger rising, but he could not give in to their demands. He shook violently with the effort of remaining in control while Elphis's life was in danger only a few yards away. Tears were streaming down his face and his claws were digging into his hard flesh, but he just could not let go. This was worse than when Doom had tried to control him. Much worse.

"Captain, this isn't going to work, and the girl..." Servais started, but Delphino shot him a look that withered him back into his silent stand.

"Either he fights or we all die. We don't have time for games anymore." Delphino's voice was hard and her hands were steady. The hands of a practiced assassin.

"Just stop, please," Maduin pleaded, breaking down. "He's right, this isn't going to work. I can't do what you want me to do on command. I'm useless, so just stop trying. Let her go and we'll find some other way. I'll fight, and I'll die for you if I need to, but Elphis is innocent. Please."

The three Stradivari looked at each other, saying nothing. Ole Bull shook his head. "No, it has to be done this way."

Maduin fell to his knees and yelled out in despair, but the Stradivari would not be swayed. He had never felt so helpless.

"Do it, then."

The voice came from behind Maduin, soft and cruel. Maduin jerked his head back to see the Lady Blunt standing behind him, the only one of the group smiling.

"If you won't kill her, I will." Her voice rippled through Maduin like Delphino's never could. The tears stopped, but his claws bit even deeper into his palms.

"Fey, what are you doing out here?" Ole Bull said with a savage note in his voice Maduin had not heard before. It was the voice of the Axelrod of the North. "You are forbidden from interfering in this. Leave us!"

"I go where I please, Lord Ham," the Lady said with equal savagery. "He won't attack because he doesn't truly believe in his heart that the three of you are capable of killing the girl. But he knows me. He knows I will."

She stepped past Maduin's prostrate form and walked casually towards Delphino and Elphis. Elphis's face was beginning to turn grey, and he eyes were drooping, but she still stood and calmly stared out at nothing, lost in some happy dream.

"Stop!" Ole Bull shouted, starting towards his subordinate. "You've done enough murder in this town already. If the girl must die to save us, then it will be on my command and my soul, not yours. Step back. Now."

But the Lady did not stop. She took another step towards Delphino and Elphis. A dagger was now in her hand, twirling lustily.

"I won't allow it!" Ole Bull bellowed, and charged at the Lady Blunt, fully intent on killing her if she did not heed his command.

But the Lady did not stop. She broke into a silent, cat-like run and rushed at the girl with her dagger extended like single talon, ready to pierce the girl's heart. Her red hair flashed brilliantly in the sun, flying loose like streamers of fire as the berserker frenzy took her.

"No!" Maduin watched in stunned horror, frozen in place, as the red-haired demon lunged at Elphis's heart before Ole Bull or Delphino could react.

The Lady howled in delight, a maniacal grin splitting her face as her dagger reached its target with deadly speed and accuracy. Delphino dropped her garrote wire in shock, and the spell was broken. Elphis's eyes opened wide, but the blind girl did not see the terrible face only inches from hers. The Lady was so close she could feel the hot breath smothering her. The woman's breath smelled like blood, and Elphis screamed.

Maduin never saw the attack connect. A blue haze had covered his vision as the true impact of the situation overwhelmed him. The Lady had kept her promise when it appeared her brethren would not. She had killed Elphis.

The blue haze grew and covered him, filled every particle of his being. The chaotic power surged through him as it had on that night of fire in Antissa, and he knew no more.

The magic show was over.


	107. Red Tide, 'Eve of the Blood Moon'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.11 - Eve of the Blood Moon**

_You are unbalanced._

"What?"

_You will never be able to control the chaos without finding the Balance. Seek the Triad and you will be whole._

"I don't understand."

_Wake up._

"Am I dreaming?"

_Wake up, Esper!_

"Who...?"

"Maduin! Wake up!"

His eyes were not playing tricks on him. It was night, and a red moon was hanging in the sky alongside the almost full white moon. This was the blood moon - the night before the full moon when one moon cast its shadow on the other, making one moon appear red. Tomorrow was the true full moon when both moons would be visible in their entirety, which meant tomorrow was the night Lilith would make her return and destroy Zwill. Unless Maduin was able to stop her.

When Maduin's eyes focused, he realized he was back inside Harcourt mansion, and amazingly Elphis was by his side, as was Kumiro. Ole Bull and Captain Delphino were standing around him as well. There was no sign of the Lady Blunt or Servais.

Remembering his ordeal with the Stradivari, he leaped out of the bed and prepared to fight them off. But no one was moving, and Elphis did not seem in any danger. Even Kumiro seemed safe and calm..

"What's happening? Is Elphis all right?" Maduin found himself unbelievably tired. The last thing he remembered was the Lady Blunt stabbing Elphis, while the other Stradivari watched. Then everything went blue, and cold. So cold.

"Everyone is fine," Ole Bull said.

Maduin noticed the burly man's arm was in a sling and his entire upper body was swathed in bandages. He did not look happy, but Maduin was not in a very good mood, either. Something wasn't right here. Elphis seemed fine, but one way or another, he had been tricked.

"What happened? What did you do to me? To Elphis?" Maduin matched Ole Bull's scowl frown for frown, not giving an inch. "I want answers. Now."

"Elphis is fine." Ole Bull repeated his words with the same grim look. "No thanks to you. Yes, as you probably suspect, we tricked you into thinking Elphis was in danger. Delphino made you see what you wanted to see, what you already believed. The illusion wouldn't have worked otherwise."

Maduin began to understand, but that knowledge didn't make him feel any better about the current situation. An entire day had been lost, he was exhausted, and Elphis...

"So Elphis was never in any danger at all? What about the Lady Blunt? Was that an illusion, too?"

Ole Bull's look became even grimmer. "Elphis was only in danger from you...and Lady Fey. She was not part of the plan."

"So you used me, nearly killed us all, and now we only have until tomorrow to prepare ourselves?" Maduin was not going to let the man try and blame him for their own botched ruse. He was growing weary of being used by anyone, man or god.

"Fey claims the girl was never in danger." Ole Bull looked down at Elphis, quietly listening without understanding what had really happened. "She says she knew our plan wouldn't be enough, so she took it upon herself to up the ante, so to speak. She says she was aiming for this."

The Titan magicite glimmered in Ole Bull's good hand. Maduin wasn't sure he liked the man holding such a precious object.

"This thing is harder than diamond, you know. Fey's knife didn't scratch it. I've never known any material those knives in her hands couldn't pierce. In fact, this stone broke her knife like it was one of your ice swords."

"I don't know anything about it, if that's what you're wondering. All I know is that is what an Esper turns into when it dies." Maduin sensed where this conversation was going. "That is a very special artifact, and if you are going to ask if you can have it, the answer is no."

"Suit yourself," the man grunted. He handed the magicite back to Elphis carefully. "If killing Espers is what it takes to get one of these, we'll be swimming in them soon enough. Tomorrow, either Lilith and her steed die, or we do."

"And you still want me to fight." Maduin was not asking. They wouldn't all be here if they didn't intend to use him.

"Now more than ever. I can't fight like this." Ole Bull shifted his broken arm. "I barely managed to fend off your attack. If you could control that power, we might have a chance."

"What do we do, then?"

"For starters, you've got to trust us. Like I said before, Delphino's illusion only shows you what you already believe. If you trusted us, you wouldn't have seen what you did. Servais didn't think it would work at all, but you showed how much faith you have in him, too."

"You're nothing but killers and tricksters. I'll help you because I have a stake in this, too. But I will never trust you, especially after this."

"We did what we had to do, nothing more, nothing less." Ole Bull glanced at Delphino, who stood stoically by his side without a word, as usual. "Fey is locked up now, if that makes you feel any better."

"She killed someone the other night, didn't she? That's what you've been so mad at her about." Maduin remembered Ole Bull's words when she had appeared yesterday. Something had happened, someone had died, and she was involved. Was it because of his presence here?

The giant bear of a man shrunk at Maduin's words, sighing heavily. If Elphis was Maduin's weakness, then the unpredictable Lady was his.

"Aye, she went too far that night. It's been building up for a long time, and the other night she finally crossed the line. Not that it's any of your business, but a former member of Levi's crew happened into Zwill recently, and Fey cornered him in a bar. She wanted information on Lord Dunn-Raven, and the man was less than civil to her. I think you can guess what happened next."

"Why didn't you lock her up then? Then none of this would have happened." Maduin had no sympathy for the woman, nor for the foolish member of Levi's crew that refused to give her what she wanted. If he was anything like the fiends he had seen on Levi's ship, the world was better off with him gone.

"She's smarter than you give her credit for. The man didn't sign his death warrant until he pulled a knife on her, which is exactly what she was waiting for. Self-defense, case closed. The man's reputation didn't help him either. Not one person in that bar seemed to care about what had happened. So, I confined her to her room, and considered the affair over with."

"But she didn't listen did she?" Maduin wasn't surprised.

Ole Bull waved his good hand in a sign of defeat. "When does she ever? She spread the rumor that you were here, that we had a secret weapon. Just to spite me!"

"And then she showed up on the field."

"You know the rest. What you saw of her was all reall\, unfortunately. If we didn't need her for the coming battle, I'd tie her up and send her back to Solomon for a real wake-up call. That woman needs a sterner hand than mine, especially now that she is letting her emotions sway her. That is not the Stradivari way."

Delphino cleared her throat, and Ole Bull nodded. "Enough talking. It's already blood moon eve, and you need to get out of that bed. Tomorrow, we see if any of this training has paid off. If you can do to Lilith what you did to my training ground, we should be fine."

"What I did?" Maduin did not have a clue what he had done. The only hint was the sorry condition of Ole Bull.

"Hm. No idea huh?" Ole Bull growled. "I think you need to see just what your power is capable of. I think you need a wake-up call, too. C'mon, get up."

The man veered his wounded bulk carefully out of the room, with Delphino gliding behind him like a ghost. Only Elphis and Kumiro remained with Maduin.

"What happened on the field, Elphis?" Maduin wasn't sure what Elphis had experienced out there. How much of the terror on her face was real back then, and how much was Delphino's illusion?

Elphis clutched her magicite and looked down at her bare feet. She couldn't have seen any of what happened, but she had heard everything they had said, and certainly must have felt the explosion of energy Maduin unleashed. At least that much was very real. And the Lady Blunt...there was no telling what lasting impact two near-death encounters with the woman might produce.

"You scared me, Maydune." The girl's voice was soft, with none of the usual cheer. "It felt like you blew up the whole world."

"But Ole Bull protected you?" Maduin asked cautiously. If so, he owed the man a debt, as much as he hated to admit it.

"Yeah. He grabbed me, and the Captain and...that bad lady, and covered us up real good. Like he was giving us all a big hug." She giggled despite her mood, but quickly frowned. "What happened? Everyone got quiet and left, and then, then..."

What should he tell the girl? What did he even know? "And then what?" he prodded as gently as he could.

"Blood!" Elphis gasped. "I smelled blood and that bad lady was in my face and Titan got angry and...oh! I don't know Maydune! I didn't like it."

"It's over now, Elphis." Maduin got up and lifted Elphis onto his shoulder. "Let's just go outside and make sure everything's back to normal."

But Maduin knew everything wasn't normal. Ole Bull wanted him to see something, and it didn't sound good. As he wound his way back through the endless hallways of the mansion, he was reminded of the crater he had found himself in back in Antissa. He had exploded in anger and grief back then, too. But that had been high up in the air. Who knows what kind of damage might have been done on the ground?

When he arrived outside, a shudder went through him at the sight. It was the middle of the night, and the ruddy moon was high in the sky, shedding a dull, reddish-brown glow over everything. Everything except the training grounds.

Where the training grounds once stood there was now a huge hole, coated in a thick icy frost and glowing a weird blue that clashed violently with the red moon's light. There were several people busy trying to chip the ice off and fill in the hole, but it was a task that would take several weeks to finish. The scene looked like an icy meteor had struck in the night.

Maduin was stunned. "I did this?"

"And more." Ole Bull was waiting for them by the edge of the giant crater, inspecting the damage done to his beloved field. "The only reason any of us mere humans are still standing is because I managed to deflect the attack with my own, meager as it was. The women would not have survived this blast, this wave of chaos you unleashed. I barely did."

"I'm sorry." Maduin couldn't think of anything else to say. He had sworn he wouldn't repeat his mistakes at Antissa, that he wouldn't let his powers go wild. And yet, it was so easy for the Lady Blunt to prod him! With such devastation at his fingertips, how could he ever hope to live alongside humans again? One temper tantrum, and a whole village could be leveled, hundreds killed.

"We wanted to see this, Esper. Remember that. We did what we had to do, and we got what we asked for, I suppose. Don't beat yourself up over it too much. Perhaps once this fight is over, we can work on really getting that 'Chaos Wave', as I like to call it, under control."

"Chaos Wave?" Maduin asked.

"Every good attack needs a name, you know that." Now Ole Bull smiled, wincing at the pain. "And that was one helluva attack! Gahaha! Ow."

Delphino stepped over to Ole Bull and adjusted the bandages on his sides. His laughing had caused whatever wounds were hid under them to break out again, and a large red spot was expanding from his massive gut.

"Stop bellowing like a Vomammoth, you old fool," Delphino rasped. But she was smiling her thin smile as she replaced the bandages.

Even Elphis laughed at Ole Bull's painful exuberance, but Maduin could not smile. Not at this. That blood was his blood, his fault. And it could have been so much worse. The laughing girl on his shoulder could be lying at the bottom of that hole right now, a crumpled heap.

"What is the Triad?" Maduin suddenly asked, his gloomy thoughts whirling back to the voice in his head just before he had woke. Who had it been? What had it meant?

Ole Bull stifled his laugh and shrugged. "No idea. Something magical? Where'd you hear it at?"

"Nowhere. Never mind." Maduin would have to look elsewhere for those answers. He knew one thing for sure - he _was_ unbalanced, and a real threat to those around him. There was only one way he could fight tomorrow.

"I want to fight her alone."

Ole Bull snapped his head back from the gaping hole so fast he winced at the strain. "What? No way. This is Zwill's problem, and we will fight alongside you. Heck, I don't even want you involved unless we can't handle it ourselves. I still have one trick up my sleeves for tomorrow, thanks to Delphino."

"No." Maduin was adamant. "You've seen what Espers can do. You don't stand a chance, and you are in no condition to fight. I don't want to hurt anyone else."

"Absolutely not! I am the mayor of Zwill, and these barbarians of Astarte are my problem, my curse." Ole Bull was growing red as he marched over to Maduin. "She's coming for me, understand? She wants the line of Zwill back under the control of Zozo. Old Zwill may of started this, but I am going to finish it. I can still fight!"

At this outburst, another wound had reopened, and Ole Bull's broken arm came out of its sling. The man clutched his mangled limb and groaned at the fresh blood. "This is my fight, Esper. I will finish it," he said through clenched teeth.

As if in answer, a booming sound echoed down from behind them. Everyone glanced back at the distant black shadow of the Zozo mountains, far to the south. They were nothing but a dim outline of pitch-black rock against a red-black sky, but there was no mistaking the sound. Thunder. Rolling, unstoppable thunder, coming from the mountains.

"She's on her way." Ole Bull ignored the wounds and brushed away Delphino's bird-like administrations angrily. "Tomorrow, we all fight, or we all die. Understand?"

A flash of lightning rippled out from the mountain range, highlighting a massive thunderhead slowly spreading out from the south. Something was definitely coming, and its electric power could be felt all the way here. This was no Merkabah, like in Narsille. This was the work of a different magic altogether, that much Maduin could sense clearly as he watched the lightning show not just with his regular vision, but with the sixth magical sense his Esper eyes afforded him.

"I must fight her alone," Maduin repeated, but with less conviction. He knew there was no stopping the man from fulfilling what he thought was his destiny. "When I enter the fight, I want all of you far away, back inside the city walls."

Ole Bull started to protest again, but a hand on his shoulder silenced him. Servais was standing with them now, attracted by the coming storm on the murky horizon.

"You fight the way you think best, Maduin. But we will be there behind you to back you up. You may not trust us, but we do trust you." Servais's voice was quiet, not at all like his usual mirth. He sounded like a man ashamed. "We did what we had to do, please understand that."

Maduin looked around him, at the blasted landscape he had created, the bleeding wounds he had inflicted, the fear he had instilled. And looming in the distance, there was something just as powerful, and just as capable of death and destruction. The storm's energy was cold and heartless to his senses, and he knew this power, this false emissary of light would not hesitate to kill him, kill them all.

"We all do what we have to do." Maduin's voice was strained. He was still so tired, and angry. What was he supposed to feel? What was he supposed to do? For now, there was only one answer to the inevitable storm about to break over them.

"I will fight, because it is what I have to do. I don't like it, but I am the only one who can do something about all this. You may not realize it, but this is my fault as well. My mistakes allowed all this chaos to be set into motion, and now I must fulfill my own destiny. Understand?"

Servais, Ole Bull, and Delphino looked at him for a moment, then Delphino spoke in her gravelly, but perfectly clear voice. "We always have, Esper. It's about time you did."


	108. Red Tide, 'The Light of the Goddess'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.12 - The Light of the Goddess**

He stood on the parapets of Zwill, brooding. The storm was coming, and everything that could be done had been done, to perfection. The only uncertainty was himself. The Esper. The secret weapon. Would he save them all, or be the cause of all their deaths, or worse?

_You are unbalanced._

The words echoed in Maduin's head still. He hadn't slept since waking from his destructive outburst, and yet he couldn't sleep even if he tried. The recurring nightmares and the two-faced Cassandra-thing that now haunted his dreams seemed to rise before him even while awake in his exhaustion, and he wondered just what that false (or was it?) Cassandra wanted. Was it that mysterious entity that had spoken about seeking the Triad? Would it be watching this battle with glee or scorn? There was no answer, here, on the eve of battle.

"Focus, Maduin. The storm is getting worse."

Servais. He stood on the walls alongside Maduin, his massive double-barreled gun out and pointed straight south at something Maduin could only assume was there. His Esper eyes told him something magical was approaching, but his physical sight gave him no clues as to exactly what it was he would soon be contending with. It was just a hazy golden aura growing larger with each minute.

"Sorry. I let my mind wander."

A tap of the right ear reminded Maduin of their unusual preparations for this unusual battle. Servais could not hear him. Ole Bull's plan was simple enough, yet ingenious. Lilith's greatest weapon was her voice, capable of drawing men away from their homes to the Zozo mountains, never to be seen again. Stop the voice and you stop the weapon.

Maduin rolled the fatty substance in his fingers, poking it with a sharp claw. It bobbed suspiciously. Wax, extracted from a strange slime-like creature called a Mousse, after the dessert it resembled, at least in appearance. It seemed to jiggle as if alive when he touched it, and he wondered if it actually wasn't still alive, trying to reform itself into a new, miniature Mousse. A disturbing thought for something he was about to place in his ears.

"Disgusting-looking, but effective." Servais said, observing Maduin's curiosity. "I can't hear a thing, and the taste isn't too bad, either. Not as good as the honey Greffuhle makes from it, but better than my cooking, at least, heh."

Maduin smiled half-heartedly as he watched the man chew the wax like gum. He liked this man, this Stradivari, this killer, despite his best efforts. But there was no forgetting who he was, and who his friends were. He _must _not forget. They had already shown how easily they could trick him into trusting them too freely, and if it was so easy for them, how easy would it be for Lilith and her magical voice?

"It's time." Servais put his cheek against the silver gun, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Put the wax in your ears too. We don't know if her voice will work on you, but it would be very bad if we guessed wrong. One Esper is more than enough of a target."

Maduin knew it, and shoved the wax in his ears. The sudden silence was total and surprising. Servais was right, the stuff was effective. He still wasn't sure what to expect, even as he strained to look at what Servais saw. Just a hazy glow still, but it was getting larger, and brighter. And now there were many smaller dots appearing in a long line beside the main one. These were not magical, but real, electric lights, bobbing at the ends of helmets. He had never seen electricity outside of Narsille, but if Indy was now under the Goddess's powers, it was no surprise his vast technological mind was being used for her purposes now.

"Blast it, she's got an army, too." Servais said to no one, knowing he wouldn't be heard. The marksman's finger tightened on his trigger, and a soft wark warbled behind him where Sable waited anxiously. If all went according to plan, the massive black bird would stay there out of harm's way, but already things were not going according to plan.

Now Maduin sensed something more from the growing army of light. He could not hear it, but there was no mistaking the powerful magical energy flowing out from the lead light. Soft, golden fingers vibrated over the open plain, a plain that would soon be awash in red blood, but for that moment, it was hypnotic in its beauty. Like a rippling rainbow stretching out, Maduin watched the million rays of golden light play across the dips and crests of the rocky plain, calling out to him to join them in their frolicking.

Maduin could feel the playful tingling on his mind...but nothing more. The sight was a fascinating one - sound made visible by magic. He wondered if only his Esper eyes could see this tapestry of light covering everything. The golden waves lazily washed over Zwill, and Sable squawked behind them, his ears unplugged. But nobody moved, nobody was seduced, for now.

As Servais had expected, animals were not affected by the song. Good, then that part of the plan was still intact. The chocobo didn't like it, it seemed, but at least he was not leaping the walls to join the Demon Wives of Astarte. Maduin had to wonder what Servais would have done had Sable shown signs of being influenced. Would he have turned the gun on his own friend and companion? Something inside him told him yes, yes the man would, without hesitation.

Servais's lips moved in a curse as he watched five men stumble out of the front gates. Gates there were supposed to be closed tight. It appeared a few foolish men had refused to put the wax in their ears, and were now marching helplessly towards their doom. But Servais would not allow the ranks of the enemy to be swelled any more than they already were.

Three seconds, Four shots, and five dead men later, Servais's gun was back in position, aiming for the now much more visible southern horde. The man said something, but Maduin could not hear anything. He hadn't even heard the rapid, expert shots from the gun. Just four flashes of cruel light, and five bodies on the ground far below them, only a dozen paces from the front gate, which was even now being rolled back up. That was the Stradivari way, all right. Do what needs done. Maduin stomach lurched at the thought of the first victims of the battle being men killed by their own comrade.

_Esper, come to me. _

Maduin jumped up at the voice, mistaking it for an audible one. Servais glanced at him uncertainly, mouthing "What?"

_My partner's voice has no effect on you it seems, but surely you can hear mine? Esper to Esper, no? We are destined to fight here, today, you and I. Let the humans roll in the dust and dark like the earthbound vermin they are, but we will revel in glorious light!_

The leading light erupted into a blinding flash that lit up the entire region, and for a moment Maduin saw everything, and knew who's voice it was that had intruded on his thoughts.

_Yes, come to me, my brother._

The light did not fade, but pulsed continuously like a burning sun from the central core, where _it _stood, brazen and beautiful. Less than a mile away from Maduin the massive frame of a demon horse stood and heaved with barely contained excitement. There was no doubt this burly, armored horse, taller than Maduin by a head and as sturdily built as a small tank, was the much awaited Esper. The blinding light emanated from its wicked horn, curved and bent like a three-foot lightning bolt rising out of its forehead. Its eyes were pinpoints of white light, shining like beacons straight into Maduin's. And in those eyes was a berserk frenzy to kill Maduin had only seen in one other pair of eyes - the Lady Blunt.

Atop the Esper rode a small woman, hardly more than a wisp of a girl. Her long, flowing hair was as golden as the light that flowed across the plains, covering her milky white skin only barely. The girl's bare arms were outstretched and her head raised like a pagan queen, gracefully disdainful of anything around her but the song she sang. The tangible musical energy flowed from her in separate waves, intertwining with the waves of light gushing from the horse, and finally combining to form complicated patterns of energy and sound for miles around. Maduin was almost tempted to unplug his ears so he could hear the surely divine music that must accompany this display of power.

A sharp rap on the head from the blunt end of Servais's gun snapped Maduin back to reality. The man's eyes were worried, but only for a second. As soon as Maduin's vision unfogged, Servais was back to his kill stance, ready to fire.

There was no doubt it was an intoxicating and intimidating sight, the glorious Esper steed and its entrancing master. But who really was master and who follower in this magical force? Maduin could not tell, the magical energy from the pair was so blinding. There was no doubt the horse was an Esper, and a powerful one at that. But the woman? She looked perfectly human from this distance, but that meant nothing where magic was concerned.

_The girl is nothing, Esper. Your battle is with me. I am the warhorse of the Goddess Astarte, the mighty Ixion! _

Maduin shook his head, trying to remove the horse's voice from his mind, but it was no use. The creature, like its companion, was well-versed in mental warfare. He could not control Maduin's mind, but he could read it well enough, and that was just as bad.

A gout of lightning arced down from the sky and struck the pair at the pronouncement of the Esper's name, lighting them up like a blazing torch. The horse let out a war cry, shook its metallic, dagger-like mane, and charged, nostrils sparking with electrical fury. The girl remained seated and effortlessly continued her song, unharmed by the bolt or the rampaging Esper beneath her.

Maduin did not rise to the challenge, not yet. Servais had one hand extended to still him, and one hand on a quickly tightening trigger. His eyes were trained on the oncoming Esper, the twin-muzzle of the gun aimed squarely at the beast's head. Or so Maduin hopelessly thought.

_This won't work. No Esper can be taken down in one shot from a simple firearm. If his hide is half as hard as mine, Servais is wasting bullets._

When the gun fired, Ixion and Lilith were still half a mile distant, but that was no problem for the sniper's sight of Servais. The flash of the gun briefly tried to match the blazing light from Ixion's horn, and then to Maduin's amazement he felt a release of magical energy as the woman shuddered and lowered her arms.

Of course! Servais had been aiming for the woman, not the horse. The heavily armored Esper could deflect bullets like a real horse with flies, but the girl, she was completely naked, without any protection at all. A heartless shot to take against something so beautiful, Maduin thought briefly, before he once again tried to remember this all-too-alluring target was the enemy, plain and simple.

A swift forward thrust of Servais free hand told Maduin what the next move was. Wasting no time to see the effects of Servais's shot, Maduin leaped over the barricade and swooped down to earth to meet his hopefully staggered foe.

Whatever the condition of the girl, the horse had not reduced its speed at all. Maduin could see her still sitting atop the horse, ridiculously out of proportion in comparison to a normal rider and horse, but still there, still alive. He wondered how much that would matter when the two Esper giants collided.

For there was no doubt at this close a range, the girl was not an Esper. If the lack of an Esper's tell-tale aura was not enough, the trickle of red blood rudely clashing with her immaculate skin screamed the sad truth loud and clear. This was just a human girl that was now grimacing in anger and pain, clutching her wounded shoulder. Had Sevais missed, or had the startling form of the young girl stayed his killing blow?

Maduin did not have time to wonder about Servais or feel sorry for this girl, yet another human dragged into the affairs of gods and Espers. Just as his bulk rammed into the hard, metal surface of Ixion, he saw an ugly grin scar the girl's face and a lightning bolt of her own erupt from her blood-stained fingers. Globules of red flickered in the light of her bolt and then sizzled to smoke as they were caught. The bolt rose over Maduin's position and homed in on its real target - Servais.

There was nothing to be done. The speed of the bolt was the unstoppable, and Maduin could only watch in horror as the magical energy lit Servais up and sent him flying backwards out of Maduin's sight. Immediately afterwards everything blurred as the chaos erupted on all sides and the battle began in earnest. Soldiers poured out from behind Ixion, and a matching set of soldiers poured out of the gates of Zwill, with archers and gunners appearing along the walls above to follow Servais's lead.

Maduin thought he saw a black blob rise up from the parapets and carry something still shuddering with static energy back into the town out of the corner of his eye, though. He hoped that was what he had seen, hoped with more emotion than he would have suspected. There could be no denying it now, Servais was his friend and ally, whether he liked it or not. The feeling of fear and anger at the man's possible death proved their relation more than words or actions could.

But Maduin had no time to reflect on anything more than the immense fury of Ixion before him. The crazed horse seemed ecstatic to finally be in the fray, head to head with his rival.

_Now we see who is the true warrior, here! I will defeat you, Herald, and prove my worth to my Goddess!_

The mental connection went both ways, and as Maduin grappled with the horse trying to bring him down to his knees, he could feel the disproportionate passion flooding from this Esper's mind whenever it spoke. The two had never met, and yet the hate, the inferiority this being felt towards Maduin was overflowing. To Ixion, Maduin was the ultimate foe, the greatest target any true warrior could aspire to defeat. This madness gave the Esper a will to fight far greater than the cowardly Cerberus. What had the Goddess told this poor soul? How had she convinced him to become an Esper for her? Again, Maduin was forced to wonder what kind of man he had been before being transformed.

_Do not pity me! I am the chosen of the Goddess, and I will defeat you here and return home a hero. I was nothing as a human, and the Goddess gave me everything. You scorned your master, and I will show you the error of that decision, ingrate!_

Ixion's thoughts raged against him with as much power as his body. The smaller horse was not as difficult to take head on as the ridiculously over-sized Cerberus had been, but he was wild with the desire to fight, and Maduin found it impossible to get a solid grip on him. It was like trying to grab lightning itself, the way the horse bucked and tried to impale Maduin with the sharp protrusions that covered his armor-like hide.

The girl was still there, trying to pelt him with her lightning, but to Maduin's surprise and relief, it was relatively weak magic. The magic of a mortal source, nothing more. Strong enough to lay a man on the ground, but not strong enough to kill in one blow, and certainly not strong enough to stop an Esper. Once again Maduin's thoughts wandered to Servais, and he felt more confident that he had survived.

Maduin was beginning to feel like he might have a chance to end this struggle on brute strength alone, as he continually managed to stop the horse's attacks while ignoring the girl's. He felt invigorated and more powerful that he had ever felt while fighting Cerberus. Somehow, he must have gotten stronger since his last battle. If he finished this battle quickly, he might be able to join the massive knot of fighters roaring just outside the periphery of his battle with Ixion. The two human armies had clashed and were busy hacking each other to pieces, but giving the two giants a wide berth.

_How do you like the power of a Herald? I can sense you tiring, and if you fall back, I won't have to kill you. I do not want to harm another Esper if I can help it._

Maduin sent this taunting thought against his opponent, feeling giddy with the growing confidence in his own strength. The answering thought was brutal, wordless, and perfectly clear - there would be no surrender, no retreat. Everything in Ixion's mind screamed that this would be a battle to the death.

Maduin was about to answer with one more entreaty, but was struck dumb by a blinding flash of freezing cold light. He never knew where the light had come from, girl or horse, but the effect was disastrous. There was no sound, nothing to see, and his sense of touch was numbed by the piercing cold light. He was completely blind, deaf, and paralyzed.

_How does it feel, you false Herald? This is a gift from the Goddess - blessed oblivion. You will feel nothing, see nothing, and hear nothing while I rip you limb from limb, and take your magicite corpse home as a prize for my Goddess!_

The hard, hateful voice of Ixion was the only thing in Maduin's world as the battle suddenly disappeared from around him. This trickery was nothing like the blunt, thoughtless attacks of Cerberus. There was cunning _and_ hate here. Cerberus had been a brute, and died a brute's death. Ixion had obviously been trained better by its Master in the magical powers it could be capable of. If Maduin survived this, there would be no lucky death stroke like with Cerberus. No, this would truly be a battle to the death, and right now, Maduin's death seemed much closer than a few moments ago.

Maduin had no idea if he was even dead or alive as he floated in a shell of empty senses. There was no voice of Ixion now, and no other voices either. Where was the Cassandra-thing? Shouldn't he be able to roam the Nexus if he was unconscious? Or...dead? He had no idea, and dreaded finding out what it would be like to be a piece of rock like Titan for all eternity.

_I must focus. I can break free if I use my full power. I must concentrate. I must use this...Chaos Wave, as Ole Bull calls it. But how does one control chaos?_

No answer. In this absence of sensation, he could not build up the raw, mindless fury required to lose himself in his own power. Perhaps that was good thing. How many innocent soldiers around him would fall if he managed to unleash his attack? Would it even work against the heavily armored Ixion?

_Nothing. I have nothing. I'm helpless here, and I don't even know if I'm dead or alive. Looks like this is the end. I've at least weakened the Esper. Maybe that was enough. Maybe Ole Bull can manage the rest without me. I'm sorry, everyone..._

As Maduin slowly slipped into true unconsciousness, he felt he heard the laughing neigh of Ixion, triumphing over his much sought after victory. Then a bright flash of thunderous magical light filled his entire body, and he felt nothing but excruciating pain beyond anything he had ever felt before. The cruel, cold light of the Goddess filled every inch of his being, and he knew no more.


	109. Red Tide, 'The Face of the Enemy'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

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**11.13 - The Face of the Enemy**

Ole Bull saw what was about to happen before anyone, and was already on the move by the time his trump card fell. One minute it seemed Maduin might actually overpower the hell horse, and then...it was over. The girl stopped pelting him with trivial sparks and instead blinded him with an intense ball of light. The horse followed up with his own blinding flash of electricity from those glowing eyes, and Maduin fell, stunned and blind. And useless.

"Damn fool!" Ole Bull growled as he mounted for battle.

"You're the fool if you go out there in your condition." Delphino was holding onto her partner's bandaged arm, but not really holding him back. She knew they had no choice now.

"I was a fool for thinking I could sit back and do nothing while others fought." Ole Bull patted a huge clump of hair beneath him, and rose suddenly far above the milling soldiers still behind the sturdy gates of Zwill.

"Let's go, Colossus."

The gates lurched open and a mountain of hair and muscle rushed out to join the battle. Delphino looked on after them for a moment, then scurried off towards Harcourt Mansion.

"We do what we must," she said softly as she disappeared from the battlefield.

Ole Bull knew he had no chance against the enemy Esper. His steed, an enormous bull vomammoth, was still no match for the towering warhorse. But he was a match for a little girl, surely. If he could catch them off guard, break their concentration, then maybe...

The field of battle that met the old warrior's eyes as he left the city walls behind was a grim spectacle, all too familiar. He had suffered these barbarians on and off for his entire life, and the life of his father, killed by the savages, and his father before him, also killed by the savages in his time, straight back to Old Zwill himself, perhaps the only Harcourt to ever live out his natural span of life. But the blood of Zozo ran through them all, and these beasts were his kin, and his curse.

_Mathias...they will pay._

"Steady, men! Don't let the enemy rattle you. Lilith isn't the only one with tricks!" Ole Bull roared to his men as he charged through the ranks towards the center of the skirmish where the two Espers waged their own private war. Friend and foe alike made way for the titanic beast and its equally impressive master. He saw many familiar faces as he passed line after line of newly-minted soldiers. Friends, town troublemakers, even the stray merchant or two. Any able-bodied citizen of Zwill had taken up arms for this fight. He knew they couldn't hear him with the wax in their ears, but they could feel the power of his words all the same.

Ole Bull himself trusted to Delphino's powerful hypnotic suggestions to suppress any of Lilith's seductive charms. So far they seemed to be working. As the glowing core of the fighting approached, Ole Bull could see the young, wounded girl that was the much hated Demon Wife. Lilith was powerful, but it seemed her powers were not on the scale of the Espers. Ole Bull could say for certain he had never seen an Esper bleed, even if Lady Fey claimed they could.

_But I will make them bleed today. _

Faces. Everywhere familiar faces. Too many to count, too many by far. There was something wrong here, though. The faces of the enemy were familiar as well. Many had lighted masks, glowing with incandescent markings like tattoos, but many did not. And the ones that did not were dreadfully familiar...

_No...what devilry is this? Is this what the men of Zwill have come to? Must we fight our own comrades?_

It was true, and he could see why the men he passed seemed to need his encouragements so badly. All those tragic souls who had wandered from Zwill, assumed lost to the Goddess, were far more lost than he had imagined. Slaves to the Goddess, they now fought like mindless zombies against their former allies. Only a truly evil god could force men to fight their friends and family!

Ole Bull almost halted his charge as this realization hit him, but he could not stop. Maduin was down, and Servais as well. Delphino was not a hand-to-hand fighter, and the Lady Blunt...best not to even think of her. No, the only Stradivari left to take the field against Lilith was himself, wounded as he was. But he was not completely alone.

"Arooo!" Jupiter howled beside him, loping along with his wide bloody grin. The red fang had followed him out the gate, and two more mouths hungry for flesh were right behind him.

"Today, the beasts of the earth rise up alongside mankind, to remove this abomination from the world. Right, old friend?" Ole Bull's face was a savage as his bestial allies. His blood was up,and despite his injuries he was ready for a good brawl. The twin Ipooh lumbered just behind him, lashing out at anything that got in their way. They both looked ravenous with hunger.

_Thirty years. Has it really been thirty years? Mathias, I have not forgotten._

Thirty years was a long time to wait for revenge. But, revenge was not the Stradivari way, and Ole Bull - no, Sampson Harcourt - had been forced to be patient. No love, no loyalty, nothing but the Stradivari mattered since that day. Had he not seen the truth of this simple creed in the erratic Lady Blunt? What had her obsession gotten her but grief and the empty thrill of killing?

_But I am not like her. I have done my part for my brothers. Today is my time though, my revenge. I am in control of my emotions perfectly. Perfectly..._

Thirty years ago the curse of Old Zwill had resurfaced in all its cruel inevitability. Sampson had not been a Stradivari then, but after the blood moon of thirty years ago, everything had changed. It was the reddest blood moon he had ever seen, as if the gods themselves were bleeding. The Zozo barbarians claimed it had actually rained blood over the mountains. On that night, he had lost his father to Zozo raiders. On that night, he had lost his newborn son as well.

_Blood traitors! All of them. Never again will they fool me with their lies of truces and peace._

Thirty years ago, the followers of the Goddess had claimed signs in the sky told them to break the uneasy peace with Zwill that Old Vargas Harcourt had brokered thirty years before that. Sampson's grandfather had allowed himself to be what was supposed to be the final sacrifice to the old, dead gods of the mountain. In return, Sampson was to marry one of their own, just as Old Zwill had taken his wives from the countryside centuries ago.

_But it was all a lie. One convenient omen in the sky, and it all fell to ash in my hands._

Nine months after the bloody peace, Mathias had been born. And nine months and one day later, he had died under a blood-red moon. Sampson's wife was secretly a Demon Wife, and the son was chosen as a sacrifice when the blood from the sky came.

_It had rained blood that day. And today it shall rain blood once more. The blood of Zozo and Zwill will always be intertwined, it seems._

Sampson had broken his wife's neck effortlessly. She had taken their son to the altar, and then had the madness to return and tell him what she had done and who she was. She was actually proud! Even death had not removed that pride from her eyes, and she was buried with the same self-satisfied smile on her face.

A swift, bloody skirmish broke out after the murder of Sampson's wife, and Sampson's father was killed. But the followers of Astarte were weak in those days, not like now, with their Goddess revived. Zwill had pushed them back to the mountains with such heavy losses Sampson thought they would never return, at least not in his lifetime. In his loss, the Stradivari came to him, as they always do for those with nowhere else to go, and great energies that need controlled. Through them, he found a small amount of peace, and he thought those blood-drenched days were over.

_But it never really ended. How could I have been so blind to the truth? As long as Demon Wives are born, the followers of Astarte will never rest._

And now, there sat the newest Demon Wife, even more beautiful than the one he had married, and killed, so long ago. She had not seen him approaching, even with his retinue of wild beasts carving her followers to pieces. Both her and her Esper steed were intent on the helpless prey before them. They looked like they were draining the life from his inert body, but why wasn't he fighting back at all? Surely he had more fight in him than this?

Ole Bull said nothing as he slowed his giant mount. He knew what Servais knew. The weakness was the girl. She was flesh and blood, and Servais had proven she could be wounded, and hopefully killed. The song she had been singing before had ceased the moment she was shot, but the music still hung in the air, like a thousand fireflies slowly blinking in the darkness. Delphino's spell seemed to be working still, but for how long?

_I will kill her with my bare hands, just as I did her predecessor. I will kill them all!_

The girl never saw Ole Bull standing beside her atop Colossus until it was too late. When her head twisted back in shock at the single large hand reaching for her neck, her eyes were the eyes of a frightened young girl, not a demon. The pupils glowed gold, but her eyes were full of mortal fear.

"So this is the mighty Daughter of Marilith?" Ole Bull said between teeth clenched in a wild grin. He started to tighten his grip, but was thrown off the vomammoth by a kick from the Esper. Another kick sent the shaggy beast tumbling beside its master.

The horse said nothing, perhaps could not speak, but the sparks flaring from its nostrils and eyes were words enough. Ole Bull didn't care. He could feel the girl's soft windpipe giving before his massive hand even as he was thrown backward, and she would be dead before he was.

"For Mathias!"

He squeezed and heard a snap just as he was forced to let go and was thrown to the ground by a hoof the size of a dinner plate. But the sound of broken bones had been his own hands, not the girl's neck. Some force had stopped him from delivering the killing blow. She had deep, purple bruises blossoming on her bare neck and eyes afire with the shock of being touched by such a lowly mortal, but she was still alive.

"Damn you barbarians!" Ole Bull howled. "Give me back my son! Give him back!"

He got up and flailed his two broken limbs at the beast, tears streaming as he let out thirty years of repressed rage. But it was an impotent rage, and one massive bolt of lightning sent him sprawling just as it had before. But this time Delphino was not by his side, and this time, the Demon Wife was not leaving without a kill.

The girl struggled to speak, but could not. He face contorted in pain, but only a gurgling rasp came from her beautiful mouth. One hand went to her ruined throat and clutched at her loss.

_Do you really want your son? The Goddess can grant all our desires. Let her light bless you, unworthy as you are."_

The voice that had spoken was not the girl's, not a human voice at all. Ole Bull heard it in his mind as he lay in the dust and blood. And then he heard a new voice. A man's voice.

"I am here, my Master. What is your desire?"

Ole Bull turned his face to see a man wearing one of the glowing masks standing next to him. He looked like every other warrior of Zozo Ole Bull had seen, if not a bit more bulky than the rest.

_Speak your name, brother._

"Mathias."

There was no emotion in the voice, and Ole Bull could not see his face behind the mask. But he knew.

Jupiter growled and leapt at the man, but Ole Bull gave a quick whistle and the hound stopped mid-strike. The man never moved, did not so much as flinch even as the crimson-stained teeth snapped shut inches from his face.

_Here is your son. He has grown into a fine follower of the Goddess. What will you do with him? His life is yours, but remember - his soul belongs forever to the Goddess._

Ole Bull was struck speechless. He could barely move, but he had to get on his feet and look at this man who had once been his son. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see his two bears loping towards them, eager for easy prey in their hunger. One whistle would send them careening towards this man, and he would be dead in a moment. Just like his mother.

_I am a Stradivari. I do what I must. But this...!_

"Mathias, do you recognize me? I..."

The man said nothing. He was nothing but a mindless follower of Astarte now. And nothing could undo thirty years of brainwashing. Nothing.

_Yes, you are a Stradivari, do what you must. Do it!_

The cruel voice of the Esper could see all his internal struggles, and toyed with Ole Bull mercilessly.

_I give you this as a gift from the Goddess. You see, she is not without mercy, even to her enemies. Take you revenge on the barbarians, and embrace your son at the same time! Hahaha!_

The girl looked on, rubbing her throat in silence. If the scene moved her, she did not show it. The only look in her gold-tinted eyes was one of petulant hate for the man that had destroyed her greatest power.

The bears pawed their way closer, sniffing the central area. They knew their master was here, and hoped he would give them something to sate their hunger. But their training with the martial arts master ran deep, and they would not attack now without his command.

"We do what we must."

The clear, sing-song voice called out, and for a moment Ole Bull thought Lilith had regained her speech. But it was not Lilith. No, it was something for more heartless than a Demon Wife.

Ole Bull yelled out for her to stop, but it was no use. A dagger whistled through the air and struck the man in the chest. Without a word, the last son of Zwill slumped down, and died.

"No weaknesses. Your words, Lord Ham." The Lady Blunt's face was cold and frowning as she stood just out of range of the horse's hooves. But her tongue was playing on her lips all the same, and there was no doubt in the old man's mind she had enjoyed the kill, as she always did.

"Enough! No more." Ole Bull was struggling to rise, but he simply could not. His arms where so much jelly, and the wounds on his sides and back were crippling him with pain. Jupiter sat at his side and licked his face, eager to fight, but not daring to leave his wounded master's side.

"Stay down." The Lady Blunt turned away from her fallen superior with a look of disgust, and looked at Maduin's form, still frozen on the ground in a look of dumb blindness. His eyes were clouded with a darkness that did not look at all natural, and his body occasionally spasmed as small bursts of electricity coursed over him. He seemed to be locked in a prison of light, blind and paralyzed.

"Men, all it takes is a pretty face to lay you out. Now I'll find out if this one bleeds like the other one did."

A flick of her fingers sent two daggers hurtling towards their targets. The girl stopped the dagger with the same barrier that had saved her from being crushed by Ole Bull, but it did not stop the dagger completely. The tip still managed to pierce the barrier slightly and reach her skin, drawing blood right over her bare breast where her mortal heart beat. Unlike Servais, the Lady Blunt would not have missed.

The other dagger struck the great horse directly in its eye, but seemed to pass right through the brilliant orb and dissolve, as if it was made of pure blazing light.

"Damn unnatural beasts," the Lady cursed under her breath, readying two more daggers in her other hand.

The horse neighed in mocking laughter, and the girl raised her hand to summon a bolt of lightning to strike her enemy down. The Lady Blunt never gave the girl a chance, nor did Ole Bull.

Just as the two daggers whistled through the air, Ole Bull whistled a quick staccato set of trills that sent the two bears into a mad frenzy. Jupiter leapt up as well, and his teeth sank into the flesh of the girl's dangling leg before she thought to defend herself. She screamed with her grasping voiceless throat, and tried to shake the dog free. But the bears were already on her by then.

The daggers sped past the girl, past the horse, and landed with well-placed thuds into the softest parts of Maduin's rock-hard flesh. One in his old battle scar from Bahamut, and one in his left eye. Blue blood oozed from the open scar, and his eye shined with an odd blue light, just like the gold light from the horse's.

Maduin felt the intense pain from deep in his tomb of light, and thought he was surely being killed by the Esper horse. He heard a horrible laughing that sounded like the horse's, but then the pain overwhelmed him, and he lost consciousness. But unbeknownst to him, he was free from the horse's spell, and it was real, mortal pain that was dragging him under now.

The Lady Blunt continued laughing her harsh laugh as she watched Maduin's body spasm at the touch of her blades. Even more enjoyable was the sight of the girl and her horse struggling to fend off a giant wolf, two giant bears, and an extra-giant vomammoth. Such a wild free-for-all was more than even the Esper could keep track of, and he seemed very careful to keep the girl safe. It seemed he would not risk electrocuting the beasts surrounding him and the girl as well.

"No weaknesses, hee!" The Lady saw her opportunity, and took it. She rushed up to Maduin and slapped his face hard with the flat of one her daggers. "Wake up you bloody idiot!"

Maduin shuddered from head to toe. His eye was still bleeding, as was the re-opened wound, but he was alive and slowly coming to.

"You have the worst habit of getting knocked out when we need you, Esper."

Maduin slowly opened one eye, and saw the last person he had wanted to see staring down at him, grinning madly. The look in her eyes truly was the same as the warhorse. What kind of frightful Esper might a human like her spawn?

"What's wrong, you look startled to see me. Did you really think I would let anything keep me from this battle?"

"Ole Bull said...ugh, my head." Maduin reached one claw to his face, and winced. His eye still had the dagger in it. What...what did you do to me?"

"Nothing you didn't need, like always. And Lord Ham should know better. He thought keeping me from this battle would be a suitable punishment, but I choose my punishments, thank you." The Lady Blunt looked back at Ole Bull as she said this, smiling her most wicked smile.

"You...killed...Mathias," Ole Bull struggled, his strength finally beginning to ebb.

"He died thirty years ago and you know it. That was a shell. A living zombie raised just to expose your weakness, if it was really even him at all. You should know that."

"He was...my son..." Ole Bull struggled to climb back onto his knees, and managed a half stumble, half hop that got him standing. "I will...remember what you have done...Fey."

The woman said nothing, a toss of her flaming red hair her only reply.

A burst of lightning lit up the battleground and the group saw Ixion standing alone, the girl tossed to the ground, unconscious. One Ipooh was dead, and the other creeping away with an ugly wound in its side. Jupiter still hung on the girl's leg, refusing to let go despite a gash across his face. The enormous vomammoth Colossus lay near the girl, unconscious as well.

_Enough! The girl is only a burden, even if she is the Goddess's chosen. I will not be hindered by mortals any longer. Die!_

The storm clouds rumbled in answer to Ixion's call, and lightning swirled down from the clouds in a twisting tornado. Ixion disappeared in the swirling maelstrom, then his jagged horn appeared from the wall of light, crackling with magical power. It was raised like a hammer, ready to swing down with all the might of a god.

"Get down!" Maduin shouted, grabbing the Lady Blunt and turning his back to the foreboding sight. A massive ball of lightning exploded from the horn as it fell, sending tendrils of energy shooting in all directions like missiles. The entire field lit up, and the remaining soldiers on both sides of the fighting dropped like puppets with their strings cut. Ole Bull, too, dropped from his precarious stance as soon he felt the shock of the attack.

Maduin felt the magical power flow over him and through him, and he could feel the Lady shuddering in pain as it went through her as well, like electricity along a wire. There was no stopping it from coursing through every living thing on the battle field in a massive chain reaction, and when the light finally dimmed, there were only two beings still able to stand. Maduin and Ixion.

The blast had been powerful, but Maduin had felt the same strength from Cerberus's fiery breath, and he knew his own magical ice-based energy could do the same. Remembering Ole Bull's fascination with his ice-forms, he leapt forward in a blinding blue ball of light, a gleaming sword of ice in his hand. It was exceedingly sharp, but fragile, and he would only get one shot.

The weapon shattered into water the moment it struck the still hot surface, but the watery blade did its work with sharp efficiency. Ixion staggered back in pain and surprise, its horn cut off with a melting blade of ice and water.

_Water. That is why there is no rain, despite the clouds. The water interferes with his magic, weakens it by conducting it away from him. Lady Blunt was right about weaknesses, but she had the wrong one. I can win this._

Maduin smiled. "I can win this! Do you hear me, Ixion?"

Ixion said nothing, but continued to stagger backwards, away from Maduin. The eyes were dimming now, the insane lust for victory fading as the young Esper realized he just might be outclassed, alone as he was.

_Impossible! But, you will not win! Not yet!_

Electricity rippled from the Esper's mane and eyes, and he readied another burst that would paralyze Maduin. But Maduin would not fall for the same trick twice, and he knew what was coming. The blue aura around him grew outwards to match the electrical aura around Ixion, and soon ice crystals formed in the air like snowflakes. Wherever they met with the static energy, they instantly melted, and sent the energy dissipating in all directions in a shower of harmless sparks.

"It's no use, surrender, and I will still let you live." Maduin knew he could overpower the horse now, and he knew his magical powers were superior to the horses. He may not be a trained warrior like Ixion, but he was a Herald. And that was enough.

_No! Not yet! Never!_

Ixion continued to stagger backwards, and Maduin continued to push him further and further away from the center of the battlefield, which was now dark and silent. Maduin had lost his earplugs, melted away by the heat of the lightning blast, and he listend around him. Total silence, everywhere. No singing, the clouds were no longer rumbling, and there wasn't a soul conscious outside of Zwill except for them. The only faint sound was the waters of the ocean lapping against the shoreline to the east in the throes of high tide under the full moon.

Ixion was steadily moving back towards this shoreline as he was forced to retreat from Maduin's icy barrier. Maduin kept walking in that direction as well, thinking the water of the ocean would only further weaken the lightning-based Esper. He could probably rush Ixion and subdue him now, but it was better to be safe and ensure the Esper was at its weakest. Cerberus's death had been an accident caused from sudden decision and confusion, and he did not want to repeat that mistake here.

_Not yet! Not yet, I say! I can do this! I don't need any help..._

Maduin was confused at Ixion's mental voice now. It sounded more pleading than vengeful, and the way the horse continued to stagger directly towards the open bay southeast of the city was extremely odd. Surely the Esper knew there was a massive body of water behind him?

_Heralds, bah! Damn them all! I will have my chance for glory, no matter what!_

Ixion's eyes suddenly flashed and he stopped retreating just shy of the lapping waves. A new fire filled his frame, and he began to charge towards Maduin again, heedless of being slowed by the moist air around him. Maduin braced himself to grapple with the powerful warhorse once more, but he never got the chance.

Ixion gave a horrifying shriek as a loathsome maw reached out from the sea behind him and completely surrounded his middle section in one blazing whip-like snap. With a metallic crunch Ixion's armor was split and crushed by the glistening teeth of the mouth as he struggled to free himself from the trap. Wordlessly, the mouth lifted Ixion off the ground and snapped back under the waves as fast as it had struck, vanishing out of sight with its meal.

Maduin could only see the gaping mouth, wide and full of teeth, for the brief second it was visible, but that was all he needed. There could be only one thing in all the ocean as gruesome and traitorous as the fiendish apparition that had appeared before him. The true Herald of the Goddess had risen from the depths, and no one was safe from his pitiless black heart.


	110. Red Tide, 'Death By Water'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.14 - Death By Water**

All was silent, and the scent of death was in the air. There was death in the water, too, but for the moment, Maduin saw nothing and heard nothing. He was alone on the battlefield, the sole conscious being among a thousand stunned humans.

And one very dead Esper.

As Maduin tried to recover his senses, he watched out of his one good eye, fascinated, as the broken horn of Ixion dissolved and faded, snapping out of existence with a static crackle in the wind. There was no doubt, Leviathan had sunk his teeth deep into his hapless subordinate and not let go. Ixion was no more.

But what was the traitorous snake waiting for? Had he watched the battle between the two Espers and realized that this was not the same weak little man who he had stabbed in the back what seemed a lifetime ago, at the bottom of the sea? Did he sense that this Esper was not the same Esper that had looked into his face and fled during their confrontation in the skies above Narsille? The still waters revealed nothing. Maduin was troubled.

People began to stir, and collect the dead when everything seemed over. As far as the soldiers of Zwill were concerned, the battle _was_ over. Lilith and her mighty steed were defeated by a force no one but Maduin saw, and her troops were not waking up for some odd reason. Only Lilith herself seemed aware of what was happening, and she was not happy. Within moments of regaining consciousness, she had been bound and gagged. Thoroughly gagged. Her eyes screamed all the fury her voice could not. Sparks flew from her fingertips, but silenced and unable to move her hands, she could perform no more magic tricks.

Maduin grunted and pulled the Lady's daggers from his chest and his eye. It hurt more than he expected. The old wound in his chest from Bahamut's massive blast of magical energy did not heal like the wounds he had received from ordinary, non-magical attacks. It seemed as if all the fury of the dragon king still remained in the lingering wound, and refused to give up its foothold on him just yet. His eye, however, had already regained sight as his Esper energies began to work their magic. Truly, the power of the gods flowed through him.

"Don't get careless, Esper." Lady Blunt tapped his side with the flat of a blade. "Look at the water."

He did. "It's...retreating."

Already the water had started flowing backwards away from the shoreline at several feet per second.

"What's happening?" Maduin asked.

The Lady replied coldly, "Something bad." She stormed off and began shouting orders as if she was in command. "Everyone! Clear out! Back to Zwill! _Now."_

Soon the water was several hundred feet further away than it had been before, and Maduin could see what was causing the disturbance now. A huge swell was building on the horizon, stretching the width of the entire battlefield. It was a hundred feet high and several miles long, and growing.

"Damn him," Maduin cursed to himself and thought frantically. What could he do against this? Leviathan was no fool, and certainly not adverse to standing in the shadows and attacking from behind, from a distance, from whatever location allowed him the most safety. Why fight when he can simply drown everyone, friend or foe?

The wall of water rose to two hundred feet, then three even as Maduin began to turn back. He could see hundreds of Zwill soldiers running for their lives now, too. And he was right there with them. He may be an Esper, but he could not breathe underwater, and a wave like that could easily smash him like a titanic battering ram. The power of the gods flowed through him, but he was not a god himself. No, he was mortal, and at this moment, he was feeling every bit of the mortality.

At five hundred feet the wave was truly monstrous to behold. It blotted out the moons and the clouds, and even Zwill itself. There was nothing in the world now but water, and death. It had only been less than a minute since the wave began to rise, and Maduin knew there was no escape, even if he used his magic energies to rocket himself away. The soldiers knew it too, and many collapsed and began to cry, or pray. To Altimus, to Elia, to whatever god they believed in. The face of death was on the water, and there was no hope of escape.

"Can't you do anything?" The Lady Blunt's voice rasped from behind Maduin as she stared at the seven hundred foot mountain of blue hanging over them all.

It was all impossible and absurd, was all Maduin could think, frozen in place. Waves could not physically rise to such heights without collapsing on themselves...and yet, there it was. No doubt, the Lord of the Seas was putting his full unnatural might into this one, massive surge.

"Nothing. I could turn some of it to ice...but not all of it. I doubt I can even save myself this time." Maduin looked at the Lady, and couldn't help but pity the horrible woman. She was only human after all, and her eyes were full of a fear he had never seen before. "I am sorry."

At a thousand feet, the wave stopped growing, and stood still. The crest of the wave was so far off the white mane of frothing water was just a thin sliver between blue skies and blue water. The entire world had been inverted and turned inside out, and it was impossible to tell what was sky, sea, or land anymore. All was water.

Then something emerged from the wall, heralding the giant, rushing death behind it. But it was not Leviathan.

"Impossible...," Maduin gasped, straining his eyes to make out what he could not be seeing.

Ixion raged forth, his horn re-grown and his eyes flaming with a cyclone of renewed electricity. There was a crackling, snapping funnel of whirling lightning around him as he charged forward, far larger than anything Maduin had seen him produce before. This was Ixion, but somehow he seemed different, and far more potent than before.

"Get back." Maduin pushed the Lady back roughly and steadied himself for the attack. Ixion said nothing as he raced forward at twice the speed he had before, and the storm circling around and behind him only grew. The monstrous wave, the inexplicable return of Ixion, and Leviathan still waiting out there somewhere, unseen. Maduin couldn't understand how everything had gone so wrong so fast...

A blinding flash bathed everything in white hot light and Maduin felt a terrific blast of wind push him off his feet and to the ground, right next to the Lady. "Wha...?" but his words died in his mouth as yet another impossibility met his eyes.

Ixion had been stopped and sent crashing to the ground, taken completely off guard by a tackle from the side. Seemingly out of nowhere, the mighty Esper steed, twice the size of a regular horse, had been struck full-force by...a man?

But this was no ordinary man. Tanned, grey-haired, and muscled to obscene proportions, this was by far the largest man Maduin had ever seen. he wore nothing but a loincloth, and towered over Ixion. Was this a human, twenty feet tall? Impossible! It was all impossible! Maduin grabbed his head and struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

As Ixion crashed to the ground, flabbergasted and silent still, the giant continued his assault and smashed the demon horse in the side of his face with two clenched fists the size of boulders. The Esper's face collapsed sideways and the flaming eyes snuffed out like candles. And then, Ixion snuffed out of existence as well.

"Impossible...," Maduin repeated dumbly to himself, staggering back to his feet.

There was no time to begin trying to make sense of the chaos, though. The wave shuddered, and a low roar could be heard everywhere. It was the roar of a million tons of water, the roar of the ocean itself. It was the roar of the Lord of the Seas, everywhere. Leviathan was not happy, and the time for games was over.

The roaring, rushing, insanely impossible wave shook violently and lurched forward. It looked like it was moving in slow-motion, but the reality was that is was crashing forwards and downwards with an incredible velocity. The earth itself would be flattened and scattered by its weight. there would be nothing left of the battlefield but a massive crater after the wave crashed.

But the earth was not ready to submit to the sea yet. The giant man still lingered on the battle field and reached down to grasp the land at his enormous bare feet. With a silent heave that sent every muscle on his body rippling like an ocean of rock-hard flesh, the giant lifted and pulled. And the earth responded to its master's call.

Maduin stared dumbly at the power unleashed before him. A massive wall of earth was rising parallel to the descending wave in a straight line away from the giant being. The shadow of the wave soon plunged everything into the full darkness of night, but Maduin's Esper eyes saw it all.

A ruddy brown glow where the earth was rising, rising, rising.

A cold blue glow flecked with gold where the wave was crashing down.

And then the two magical forces clashed and the earth shook with all the rage of Gaeus.

Maduin silently mouthed one word, a name, realizing who it was he was seeing perform this miracle. The thick muddy aura mixing with Leviathan's cold blue-gold one was one he had felt many times, but never truly seen, and certainly never seen in all his full, heraldic majesty. The long-dead Herald of the Master of Earth was alive again somehow...but then where was his magicite?

One thought collided into another, and Maduin whirled around, screaming another name, nearer and dearer to him than his own life.

"_Elphis!"_

She should not be here. But where Titan's magicite went, so too did Elphis. Where was she? Who had allowed a frail, blind girl onto a battlefield? He would have the Stradivari's heads for this, he swore as he looked frantically for the girl.

As the deafening struggle between earth and sea continued unabated, endless stone rising to meet endless water, Maduin turned and met the gaze of the one responsible for all this. And the eyes saw him well.

It was no blind girl holding the furiously pulsing magicite of Titan. No, the huge, calloused hands grasping the sacred relic were the hands of a killer. And the eyes, now glowing golden and brown in wavering rainbows of earthly hues, were the eyes of Titan himself, alive through this mortal man.

"Ole Bull, what have you done?" Maduin lurched forward as the ground trembled with the blows of the forces behind him. He had no idea who was winning this war of the elements, but if he had to choose he would put his money on Titan. Leviathan may be a Herald, but so was Titan, and Titan had a thousand years on the old sea snake.

Ole Bull said nothing, could not say anything. Every ounce of his formidable fighting spirit was pouring into the magicite. Maduin watched in stunned awe as the pure white life essence of Ole Bull poured out of him and into the magicite in his broken hands, where it swirled and changed color, flowing outwards and straight into the earth, now a deep brown. The summoning had total control over the man, and would not let go until Titan had finished his task, win or lose. If Titan died out there, would Ole Bull die as well?

"Fool, run! Get to Zwill!" The Lady Blunt threw a dagger at Maduin, where it stuck in his stone-hard skin for a moment before falling out, like an annoying splinter.

It was enough though. Maduin gave Ole Bull one last scathing glance and grabbed the Lady. He shot into the sky and away from the mayhem, with the Lady Blunt cursing him all the way. As he turned to look back at the fight from the air, he saw that the earthen barrier had stopped the wave, and it looked as if a new bay had been created over half the plain. The wall was acting as a dam for the water, but Leviathan's magical stain could still be seen at work, pushing the water harder and harder against the rock wall, daring it to break. But Titan did not yield, and the earth was now moving forwards itself, pushing the water back out to sea like the hand of a god, sweeping all Leviathan's evil all away. And Ole Bull stood alone among the dry wasteland of fallen corpses and still-sleeping Zozo warriors, giving every last drop of himself to save his city.

Then it all ended, horribly, horribly.

A ghoulish phantasm rose behind Ole Bull, like a twin of the burly man. The face was white and waxen, flaccid flab hanging off of thick bone and empty eye-sockets staring into infinity. It was Ole Bull, but it was not Ole Bull. The thing that was-but-was-not Ole Bull looked both younger and wretchedly older than the real thing.

"Watch out!" Maduin and Lady Blunt yelled in unison. But they were too far away, and there was nothing to do but watch as the rotting double took a dagger from its own chest and stabbed Ole Bull with it. The man grunted with shock and surprise, twisting his face around to look at his attacker. It was like peering into a twisted funhouse mirror, but a look of recognition shot across the dying man's face, and he knew his killer.

The magicite dropped to the ground, and just as Ole Bull fell to the ground, so too, did Titan kneel and shake, then vanish into the watery mist surrounding him. But the great Esper had done his work, and the earthen wall held. The wave had been pushed back into the seas, and even as the dirt crumbled to dust, deprived of the magical energy holding it up, the water sloshed harmlessly outwards and only managed to flood the plain to a depth of a few feet.

Maduin was already plummeting downwards to help Ole Bull as the water rushed up to him. The ghastly clone of the man turned his unearthly gaze to Maduin, but the face held no expression Maduin could recognize. It looked like a corpse, and smelled like one too as Maduin slammed into it and landed. It gave against his assault like a mountain of fetid meat, and slumped down onto its side, rolling over without a sound. It did not rise again, but Maduin was not foolish enough to trust anything right now. Too many impossible things had happened.

The Lady got to him first. Maduin was not sure what he would have done, but Lady Blunt always knew how to murder, even when it was her job to murder something already dead. With a single slice of a somewhat larger dagger than Maduin had seen her wield, she cut the head off the unholy creature, and took her dagger back from its cold, twice-dead hands. There was no smile on her face at this kill. There was no glory in killing something you already thought dead.

As the water began to pool around Ole Bull's limp, bleeding body, Maduin quickly lifted his hefty form onto his shoulders. Lilith was still sitting, helpless, a few yards away, watching it all. She could not speak, but there was a gleeful look in her eyes, and her cheeks twitched in what was the best smile she could produce with the numerous rags stuffed in her mouth. It seemed she had gotten her revenge, somehow.

The magicite lay in the water, still pulsing slowly and softly. The magic was fading, and Titan was gone. Maduin gently scooped the stone out of the water and tucked in the small pouch at his side that once held it before Elphis had claimed it. Or had it claimed her? What had really happened here today?

"Stop woolgathering, Maduin. The battle isn't over." Lady Blunt was dragging the kicking Lilith by the hair, her old smile in full force. She looked into the beautiful girl's face, and saw a little of herself in the girl. "You look like me when I was young. But you lack the pure killer's instinct I had, and that's why you're the one with your face in the dirt."

Lilith gave one last spine-cracking twist to try and free herself from Lady Blunt's grasp, but only succeeded in tearing a chunk of hair out. Lady Blunt slapped her and grabbed another lock of the luxurious, golden hair. Then she let go and sent a dagger flying into the darkness behind her.

Maduin turned to see what had spooked the hardened assassin, and saw an army approaching out of the darkness, masks glowing with the light of the Goddess. The Zozo horde had awoken, and had them surrounded. Some of the masks had been knocked off, and Maduin saw the same dead eyes and pale faces as the Ole Bull-thing.

The dagger thumped in the chest of one of them, but it did not stop. Lady Blunt took a step back, and tripped over the girl's prostrate form.

"Stop this, girl, or I'll kill you where you lay. I know this is your doing." Lady Blunt's voice was low, almost a whisper. She was frightened by this wave of flesh just as much as she had been by the wave of water before. Trying to fight something that could not be killed was any killer's worst fear. "Stop it, now," she repeated, grabbing the girl's hair and yanking it viciously.

Lilith raised her head in defiance, and stopped struggling. Her posture was clear - the horde would keep coming, and there was nothing they could do about it. Kill me if you dare, her eyes said.

The Lady Blunt raised her dagger to slice the girls already wounded throat. This time she would lose more than her voice.

"Stop." Maduin's voice echoed softly in the moist silence. The Lady stopped, but her eyes were still on the girl's naked throat. "It's not her. They'll keep coming even if you kill her."

"Then who?" Lady Blunt seethed through clenched teeth. The dagger grazed lightly against the girl's skin, drawing blood.

"Him." Maduin pointed out to the sea, his finger following the line of golden light only his eyes could see. It was like a puppet show, with a thousand strings of light leading from each corpse out and away, to him. To the true Herald of the Goddess.

Out in the darkness, beyond the broken wave, two lights peered out at them with evil intent. Leviathan hovered just off shore, his leering mouth split wide in a bloody grin. The thick, drowned sound of his gurgling laugh bounded over the water and filled the silence. The snake had finally slithered into the light.

"Leviathan!" Maduin called out as he put his back to Lady Blunt's. "Stop this! It's unnatural to force the dead to fight! Fight me one-on-one, if you aren't a total coward!"

The undead army did not stop, though. Leviathan continued to laugh his low, throaty laugh as the horde closed in on the two.

"Last stand, Esper. Make it a good one," Lady Blunt said bluntly, smiling despite her fear. She may fear that which could not be killed, but she had stopped fearing her own death many years ago, for she had died many years ago, inside.

_Let it come, and let it be quick. And bloody._

The Lady's thoughts narrowed down to a point, and her eyes saw death by water.

"I will not fear death by water, I will not fear the drowned man...," she murmured to herself, reciting some old prayer unknown to Maduin. Even a demon has her gods, he supposed.

Leviathan laughed and approached the shore to watch his minions at work. And then he shrieked and fell to the soaked earth with a crash of water, mud, and glistening, golden blood the color of starlight.

"Grah! Who dares...!" But he said no more. Another cruel spike ten feet long appeared in his side, next to the first one and he howled in pain. A pair of whale-hunting harpoons, all too familiar, hung from his thick, scaled hide - a hide he had thought impenetrable by mortal means. Long, seaweed-covered chains led from the harpoons back out to sea, where a thousand feet away a grim sight met his gaze.

"No...get back! Get away!" Leviathan roared, writhing in the mud and magical blood. The pain was excruciating, but the vision before him sent cold terror through his body that made him all but forget the pain.

"Not you...not again...get back...Barabbas!"

A thousand feet away, hovering in the night, drenched in the blood of the moons above, was a ghostly ship, and at its prow stood a thing, a man, a ghost, a brother. The ship gave off a forlorn sound, like a train whistle, but there was no train...or was there?

"I've come back for you, Jonah. You can never escape my grasp, you silly, little man," the Barabbas-thing at the prow of the rotted ship said, in perfectly conversational tones, a thousand feet between them.

"Nooooo...," Leviathan wailed, as another blast from the unseen train whistle split the night sky. He twisted and spasmed, centering his magical might against this impossible foe.

"Yessss...," the Barabbas-thing echoed back, pleasantly. "You escaped me thirty years ago, but you will not escape me here. The wounds of the past do not heal so easily, old friend."

Maduin watched the struggling Leviathan with dumbstruck confusion. Who was he talking to? And what had happened to the Zozo army? To a man, they had all shivered as Leviathan shivered, then fell dead and truly dead.

From Maduin's vantage point, he had watched as the entire Zwill fleet had appeared out of the harbor as soon as Leviathan had shown himself, and crept up quietly as he gloated, stabbing him in the back with two lethal harpoons the size of trees. The harpoons looked exactly like the ones that had been used against the Latimeria back in the Mordic, and proved just as effective at felling their monstrous quarry.

He recognized the ship that had fired the weapons as the _Mother of Pearl,_ at the front of the wall of ships, and knew Delphino was leading the charge. But where was Elphis? He wondered again what had happened to the girl. Delphino was the one who had sworn to watch over the girl during the fighting, and she had said nothing of joining the battle directly. And yet, here she was, here she must be.

On the other side of the battle, Delphino stood at the prow of her ship, one hand on the wooden carving of Elia, the other on a huge crank attached to thick chain, attached a thousand feet away to the cursed hide of Jonah Levi.

Her long, grey hair waved wildly in the wind of her ship's forward motion, and she shouted with rare emotion from her cracked lips. "You bastard," she yelled with all her strength, tears in her eyes and blood on her fingers where she gripped Elia's shoulder with the pent up anger of thirty years.

"You _bastard!_" She yelled again, ordering another harpoon fired. As it struck the beast square in the back and he roared, she roared back. "This is for my family, for my home, for Bariki! Give them back, give them back!" She reeled forward and ordered the ship full speed ahead. She would have her revenge, and she would look into the face of the monster who took everything from her.

All Jonah Levi saw as he shook like a worm on the end of a hook was the face of his dead brother, smiling and beckoning, smiling and beckoning, smiling and beckoning...closer, closer, closer...

"Come, Jonah, now is the time. Do you hear that siren? The wail of the dead in your ears? They are calling for you. They've missed you, in Hell. There is a special place here, on my vessel, just for you. I've saved it all these long years. Sooner or later, you all come back to me, little man. Esper, human, it does not matter. You all come back to me."

Leviathan flailed, and called out to his Goddess to save him. Silence was his answer, and another harpoon into his gut.

"Never...I will...survive...!"

With an inhuman effort, Leviathan raised himself into the air again, the storm of light bursting from his eyes, his wounds, his mouth, overwhelming everything.

Maduin watched as an explosion of magical electric energy blinded his Esper eyes.

Delphino watched as an explosion of thunder and lightning blinded her mortal eyes.

And the Barabbas-thing watched in smoldering frustration as Leviathan wrenched free from his grasp and flew into the sky with the sound of a hundred thousand cannons.

A glittering trail of golden magical energy stretching for miles into the sky and over the mountains was all Maduin saw when his vision returned.

A rainbow of golden blood arcing across the sky and ending on four dislodged harpoons with chunks of blue, scaly meat met Delphino's unhappy gaze when she opened her eyes. It only took a moment to realize what had happened, and she sank into a heap and wept with emotions she had not felt for thirty years. She had been so close this time, so close...

A small hand on her shoulder startled the old woman out of her despair.

"It's alright, Captain, he's gone now. I saw him run off in my mind and he won't hurt us anymore. Don't cry, please!"

Delphino smiled her familiar cracked smile and the emotions were sent back where they came from, to stew and fester until the next time the snake poked his head into the light. "Thank you Elphis, you're right. Let's go back to the city, shall we?"

The old woman and the little blind girl walked back into the ship's warm interior, as the gore-soaked harpoons were retracted - where they would wait another thirty years if need be to take down their prey.

Maduin watched and waited from dry land. Too much had happened for him to think it was over...but there was a feeling of finality in the air this time.

"Is it over?" he asked quietly, as the waters lapped at his feet in their rapid retreat back to the sea. The blood of the dead stained the ebbing tide a deep, desolate red.

"I think so. Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

Coming from the Lady Blunt, that was quite the statement, Maduin thought, but did not say. He had sampled enough of her daggers for one night.


	111. Red Tide, 'Changing Hands'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.15 - Changing Hands**

Ole Bull lay in his voluminous bed, barely alive. But alive.

"We did it, didn't we?" he groaned, trying to flex his battered hands, and grimacing in pain at the failure. "By Gaeus's beard... we damn well did it..."

"By Gaeus's beard indeed," Maduin said, sitting by his side in a large iron chair that once was Ole Bull's personal "throne" for the rare occasions when the leader of Zwill needed to act like the leader of Zwill. The giant Esper barely fit, and was uncomfortable in the cold, tight metal. Thrones were not for him.

"I did what I needed to do, you know that. Elphis is safe, as I promised she would be."

"Roll over, you great lout." Captain Delphino nudged Ole Bull from the other side, her mouth full of stitching thread and needles. "You're lucky you're so fat, or the knife would have reached your heart for sure." She poked and pulled at Ole Bull's wide chest, closing the deep wound Ole Bull's own son had sliced into his chest.

"Is she safe?" Maduin asked harshly. "I told you that magicite was not for you, and you took it anyways."

Ole Bull grunted as Delphino yanked hard at a stitch. "Hmph. She gave it to me. Said Titan was telling her to." "And besides..." Ole Bull looked up at Maduin's face, matching his cold stare eye for eye. Both faces had been changed by the strange battle on the plains beyond Zwill. Maduin had a new scar over his mostly healed eye, weirdly blue like some vein of exposed cobalt on a craggy cliff. Ole Bull now had an unearthly gold-brown tint to his own eyes, an after-effect of the near-suicidal summoning. "Titan told me what to do. I heard him, Maduin. When there was nothing left but to die, I heard his voice in my head. Sounded like it came from a million miles away, but it was there, and he told me what to do. I called his name, and there he was, large as Gaeus himself. It was incredible."

Maduin grimaced.

_Still being manipulated by the gods, or their servants at least. Who is Titan to let his power be used by humans like this?_

But, at least one mystery was cleared up. "I think we know what happened in the forest now."

"Aye," Ole Bull reached for a glass of water, gulping lustily. After seeing that wave, he never thought he could drink again, but he somehow felt dryer than he ever had before, like he had been infused with a massive dose of dust and grit. "It seems I was not the first to call Titan's name."

Everyone looked at the corner of the room, where Elphis had been sitting in her own little chair silently since the group had gathered. Her thin arms were wrapped around Kumiro's fluffy body, and her eyes were staring squarely at Maduin, as if they could see him. She was not smiling, or frowning. Simply...staring.

"I...can see you!" she gasped suddenly while the three adults looked on, and then the smile broke over her face, wider than the world. "You're all blue, Maydune! A big blue teddy bear!" She leaped up and practically dropped Kumiro in her joy. What she saw was only a blue hazy outline of Maduin's magical aura, barely what a normal person would call "sight", but to a girl blind from birth who had never seen the color blue to begin with, it was a miracle beyond all reckoning. She hugged her big blue teddy bear with all the strength in her tiny frame. It hurt, like hugging a statue, but it felt wonderful.

"Elphis...," Maduin found he could not speak.

"She doesn't remember it, but Titan does." Ole Bull waited for Elphis and Maduin to compose themselves before continuing, gulping more water in the meantime. He felt like he would never be able to drink enough to get rid of his thirst. "She has the eyes now, as do I. Summoning like we did, with every ounce of our chakra, has its price. A piece of the Esper stays with you. I came very close to killing myself summoning Titan, and Elphis came even closer. That's why she was out like a light for so long. I'd hate to have been whatever she summoned him against, though!" Ole Bull tried to pound his fist on the bed, but could not. "What power! That hell horse never saw it coming!"

"Calm down, you'll bust your stitching," Delphino growled.

"Let 'em bust!" Ole Bull burst out, grinning his crooked toothy grin. "I feel more alive than I ever have! The strength of that stone, the power I felt flowing through me! Imagine the possibilities!"

"I can." Maduin said. "The power of magic, of Espers, of the gods...it's not for humans to use."

"Bull! Titan chose me, Maduin. And he chose Elphis. Who are you to tell him what to do? Unless I'm mistaken, he's your senior by a thousand years or so, right?"

"Hmph." But Maduin was disturbed. Who was he to say how other Espers should use their powers, and have their powers used? That would make him no better than the gods that made him and tried to point him like a gun. He reached into the pouch and pulled out Titan's magicite. It glimmered in the low lamplight of the room, but shed its light silently. Titan would not speak to Maduin directly as he had Elphis and Ole Bull. Why?

"Something else is bothering me," Maduin said after studying the silent stone. "Leviathan summoned Ixion after he had killed him. How? I can't imagine Ixion agreeing to be used by his own betrayer. Leviathan forced him to be summoned somehow."

"That is a problem," Ole Bull agreed. "An Esper summoning another Esper? Magic bolstered by more magic? It's a frightening thought. Think about it! Even if we kill them, they can still be used to attack us from beyond death. It's just like..." but Ole Bull's voice trailed off, remembering where that wound inches away from his heart came from. The knife was unable to pierce his thick battle-scarred flesh, but the memories dug deep.

"Like your son." Maduin finished for him. It seemed Espers weren't the only thing that could be controlled by force after death. What dread powers did the Goddess possess, that she could raise the dead?

"The Still Going, the Living Dead...," Ole Bull said, naming them. Things with names were always less terrifying, and Ole Bull knew this. "They never stop, they just keep on going. That was why we were losing ground during the fight. I saw Zwill soldiers cut limbs off them, stab them in every spot that should kill a man, shoot them, break their bones, but they still kept going. The only things that stopped them were fire arrows...and...beheading."

All three looked down at Elphis, but she did not flinch from Maduin's side. What Ole Bull was describing was gruesome, and she was just a little girl. But she was strong, and because she had never seen a dead body, or a living one, never saw blood or bone or a man's guts spill out of his chest, she was not afraid. Their words were just descriptions of things she could not begin to have a picture for in her innocent little head. She knew death, but only by smell and sound and cold touch.

"Enough. I must have answers to many things," Maduin said, clearing his throat. They had talked of the past enough. The battle was over, and it was time to move on to the next battlefield.

_When will I be free to live my life the way I want? When will I not be moving from battlefield to battlefield?_

"I must find out how Leviathan summoned Ixion. I am an Esper, and I must know how my kind can be used against their will, and how to prevent it, if possible."

"But think of the possibilities!" Ole Bull interjected. "If we could use the enemy's own Espers against them..."

"_No!_" Maduin shouted, surprising himself. "I will not allow my kind to be slaves to anyone!" He gripped the magicite tightly, fearing Ole Bull would try to snatch it from his hands. "You can't have it!"

Then he gasped, and let the magicite fall to the bed. It had been too much like before. He suddenly felt like he was taken back to when he was human and seduced by the gravity crystal's allure. The memory of his disgraceful hoarding of the crystal stung him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt very cold. He thought he had killed that evil thing inside him that had come to possess his body under Doom's power and call itself by his name. But he hadn't really. It wasn't some creation of Doom, it was a part of him, and always would be. Doom had fed it, allowed it to grow out of all proportion and balance, but it was still him, still Dune. Once again, his own pride had fooled him into thinking such a beast could never have been inside him, that Doom had created the malevolent Maduin and planted it inside him to fester, grow, and eventually consume him.

But that wasn't what had happened at all, was it? Maduin had always been inside him. He was Maduin, and Maduin was him, since the beginning, before Doom, before the magic transformed him on the outside. And he was still there, Maduin discovered, watching his reflection in the faceted surface of the magicite as it fell to the bed. Inside, outside, it didn't matter. That darker side of him - full of cold pride at his own strength and burning shame at his own weakness, and lightning-quick unpredictability when pushed - would always be waiting deep, deep down in his soul. He had banished it back to its proper place with the light of the Nacre, but still...

"I am sorry. Here...take it." Maduin recovered himself. There was still much to learn about being an Esper. And being a human.

"What? Now you're giving it to me?" Ole Bull did not hesitate to cup the stone with his numb hands and scoop it to his side. It felt warm. It felt right.

"Yes. If Elphis trusted you with it, and Titan spoke to you, then you deserve it more than I do. Perhaps that's why Titan never spoke to me. He knew I would not hear his words. I have yet to find my balance, it seems."

"That's the first truly wise thing you've said, Esper." Delphino's voice crackled unexpectedly. "You are a bomb waiting to go off, and now you know it fully. But, I agree, you must seek out the answers to the problems facing your kind, especially this matter of magicite abuse. Come see me on my ship in the morning, and we will talk." Delphino gave Ole Bull one more looking over, then nodded, her work done.

Ole Bull looked up at the old captain curiously, but she simply smiled and shook her head as she tottered back to her ship. Some things were still secret, even among the secret society of the Stradivari. Ole Bull understood this, and closed his eyes to rest. The magicite gave him strength, and he felt at peace. Tonight, he would dream of a vast plain beneath a vast sky, and hear the voice of the earth, and the voice of his son. It was an ugly end to a beautiful boy, but it was an end at least. The body had been burned and given a proper burial, thirty years late. Lady Fey was right, the Stradivari must not let their emotions control them, and for now, he held no grudge against her. For now, he would dream of the child Mathias was, not the thing he became.

"Elphis, take Kumiro to our room and get some rest," Maduin said quietly as he shut the door behind him. She nodded and trotted off, letting Kumiro guide her back to the room through the twisting corridors. He was sure she would sleep soundly, even without Titan by her side. She never seemed to suffer from nightmares like he did, despite leading a far harsher life. What was her secret?

Alone, Maduin wandered the halls of Ole Bull's expansive manor, eventually finding his way outside to where the frozen pit he had created with his so-called "Chaos Wave" still sat gaping out at the sky, now half-filled. He had done that, in the blind, mindless rage of a bomb going off, just as Delphino had said. He had not had to use such uncontrolled power during the fighting, thankfully, or things might have been worse, not better.

"Are you still there?" Maduin saidto no one, clutching the string of pearls around his neck and looking up at the sky, now devoid of all clouds. The Nacre was always there by his side, but had been dead and silent for a long time. And so, too, had the skies above. There had been no massive swirling of clouds during the battle, no intervention by the gods that he could see. If Genju and Adamastor, the Herald of the Master of Storms, were out there, they were not here. The two of them combined could easily have destroyed the entire army and Leviathan as well, if they chose.

_But that's not their way, is it? Genju is a pacifist, and Adamastor does not intervene unless his Master decrees it is necessary to maintain the Balance. Where do I stand? What is my way? I must find my path, and unlock the secrets of my own power somehow. What had that voice said? I must seek the Triad, seek Balance? How can I find this balance? What does Delphino know?_

"You are the key to all this, I know it." Maduin lifted the Nacre up to his eyes and peered at it, trying to see some answer with his Esper eyes. But there was nothing to be seen. If there was magic still residing in the necklace, he could not divine it. A pretty trinket, but worthless in his ignorant hands. Somehow, somewhere, someone knew what this could do and how to use it, hopefully to free his friends and all Espers from the grasp of their harsh Masters. And Delphino knew who that was, Maduin was sure of it.

"Tomorrow, I will get some answers, finally. Tomorrow...," Maduin yawned wide, surprising himself. He had not yawned for a long time, had not truly felt tired for a long time. Tonight he would sleep well, and perhaps not dream of horrible Cassandra-things or see the faces of the dead, lost, or left behind. Perhaps.


	112. Red Tide, 'Ashes'

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Red Tide**

* * *

**11.16 - Ashes**

The morning brought many funerals. There were the newly dead, and the dead that had died weeks, months, sometimes even years ago. Bodies were continually being found among the Zozo warriors of long-lost loved ones, drawn from their homes by Lilith's recent attacks, or simply vanished without a trace years ago. All bodies were burned, and the ashes scattered to the winds, across the fields, or onto the waters. Whatever god they believed in, that was where their ashes went.

Maduin walked among the mourners unhindered. This was very different from the after math of Antissa. The people did not despise or fear him. He was a hero, despite his frightening appearance. He didn't feel like a hero, though. What had he done, after all? Ole Bull had done just as much, and given more. Many others gave everything. Everyone had fought for this victory, not just Maduin. It felt wrong, but he did not argue. Someone needed to be called hero, and what if it was him?

_But what is a hero? Am I a hero? Impossible._

Ole Bull was outside with the mourners, leading the procession for his son. There was no doubt, the magicite had done him wonders. He was covered in bandages still, and his usual swagger was replaced with a weak shuffle aided by his giant pet wolf Jupiter...but he was walking, tossing his sons ashes onto the ground of Zwill as he went. His son's stay in Zwill may have been brief and long ago, but this was still his home, and the land his protector. Gaeus would be pleased.

Servais was gone. As soon as he had recovered, he had flown off to chase down Leviathan. The trail of golden blood across the land was an easy path to follow, and within hours of Leviathan's explosive escape, Servais was hunting him down. Not to kill him, but to follow him, scout ahead, and see where he went. Then, to Jidorik. More bugs had come in the early hours of the morning, and all out war was imminent in the south. Just as Leviathan had made his move on Zwill, it seemed Bahamut was finally making his move on East Jidorik, and the horror stories coming from the south were hardly to be believed. It sounded as if the entire countryside was gripped by total panic - entire villages, towns, and cities fleeing even further south for their lives, on both sides of the Medina. Servais knew he would be needed, and so he went. He knew his path, and followed it without question.

Lady Blunt had remained scarce since the previous night. She had personally seen to locking up Lilith and watching over her. Ole Bull did not argue. He wanted both of them out of sight in a jail, and if this was the best way to do it, then so be it. Lady Blunt walked her own path as well, and she followed it without regret or approval from others.

But now Maduin walked his own uncertain path, one which led straight to Captain Delphino's cabin on board the _Mother of Pearl_. He fingered the Nacre nervously as he walked up the gangplank and onto the ship's deck. The crew paid no attention to him as they went about their business. One nodded and pointed the way to Delphino's cabin, and that was all.

The cabin remained unchanged from the last time. It was still cramped, dimly lit, and full of the scent of salt and dust. It was a sea captain's cabin, just like Captain Bismark's.

"Have a seat." Captain Delphino, too, was unchanged. She still sat behind her cluttered desk hunched under her thick wolf's skin coat with the frills of vulture feathers. She was not smiling, but there was a glazed look in her eyes that Maduin had not seen before. An odd flicker of gold just hinted from under her lashes, and Maduin wondered.

"Do you know where you are going next?" Her voice was a raspy whisper, but the echoes in the tight room made her voice sound louder than it really was. Or perhaps that was one of her hypnotist's tricks. "I assume you won't be staying here. Neither will I."

"No, I'm leaving as soon as I figure out where I'm going. What I was looking for isn't here, I don't think."

Delphino chuckled. "You want to know about that thing around your neck, don't you?"

"Wha, what do you know about the Nacre?"

"Little, probably less than you, but I know an artifact of the Order of the Pearl when I see one, and I know you're looking for someone from the Order."

"I am," Maduin admitted. That was no secret. He had left Antissa to seek out remnants of the Order, but had found none that could help him. "Do you know someone?"

"Perhaps." Delphino reached into her coat and pulled out a coin. The coin was bright gold and attached to a string around her neck. "Do you know anything about the past of the Stradivari?" She flipped the coin slowly in her hand, sun and full moon glinting from each side.

Maduin did not want to know anything more about the Stradivari. They were killers, what more was there to know? "I don't nee to know anything about your group. I'm looking for the Order of the Pearl, not a bounty hunter."

"What if I told you they were once one and the same?" Delphino's deft fingers continued to twirl the coin as Maduin's mouth popped open. "Each new leader of the Stradivari takes the name Solomon. Does the name of our leader not ring any bells?."

That name again. Maduin struggled to remember where he had heard it before. Had it been during a conversation about the Order? He didn't think so.

"The founder of the Order of the Pearl was a man named Solomon who lived two thousand years ago. That man was also the first leader of the Stradivari, and the founder of our brotherhood."

"Solomon...two thousand years ago? The Stradivari have been around that long?" Maduin couldn't believe it. The Order was secretive, but still known around the world. He had never heard of the Stradivari until a few weeks ago. As an archeologist, this was something he felt he, if anyone, should have known about.

"Yes and no. The dates are a little hazy. The same Solomon that founded the Order of the Pearl also founded the Stradivari, this is a known fact among us, but according to our records, the first known Solomon to lead our group lived five hundred years after the Order was founded. It couldn't have been the same man, yet our histories seem to imply it was."

"That's it...," Maduin gasped. Now he remembered where he had heard the name, and knew the secret of the Stradivari's first founding member. The group had been created by an Esper. By Genju.

"Hm?" Delphino's raised her eyebrows, and Maduin saw that faint glint of gold in her eyes, but just for a second.

"I've met the founder of your group. He's an Esper, like me, and is still alive."

If Delphino was surprised, she hid it well. The only sign of agitation was the increased pace of her spinning coin. "It would explain the apparent long life of our founder. And many other things, as well. I wonder if the current Solomon knows this? I wonder, indeed..."

As fascinating as this history was, Maduin knew he was called here for another reason. Delphino had something to tell him, but what? What was she getting at? "What does this have to do with me? With the current state of the Order?"

"Nothing. Except that you will find the two groups often share a common bond where you least expect it. We were both founded on the same ideals, after all. The Order was the instrument of peace in the ancient world, and the Stradivari the instrument of justice. Both were necessary to maintain balance in the world. How many great moments in history were brought about by hidden Stradivari agents, I wonder?"

"Do you wonder, or do you know?" Maduin found himself curious, despite his growing impatience. Uncovering the secrets of the past was what he had once lived for, in another lifetime.

"I don't. But there are those that do. The Order has record keepers, and so do the Stradivari. Normally both sets of records would be kept under lock and key, hidden from the world, and from each other since the schism of our two groups a thousand years ago. However..."

"You have a mole in the Order, too." Maduin wasn't surprised. It seemed the Stradivari were like cockroaches, skittering under every surface.

"No, as much as you would like to believe that, we don't usually meddle in the secrets of other countries and groups. Also, it has long been a rule that all members of the Stradivari sever all ties to their past when the join. All previous groups, order, nationalities, and affiliations are secondary to the Stradivari. Only people who have lost all their friends and family are even considered, and any religious or political ties are considered only superficial in order to maintain a cover."

"Like Ole Bull, aka Sampson Harcourt," Maduin said. "So Ole Bull doesn't really care about Zwill? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. But, no." Delphino couldn't help but laugh. "Ideally, that would be the case. Ideally, a perfect Stradivari lives only for the Stradivari and their fellow members. Ideally."

"Sounds like a difficult ideal to keep to."

"Not as hard as you might think, for many Stradivari. Like Servais. He's as perfect a member as we've ever had. No family, no friends outside the order, no hometown, not a single thought beyond his fellow brothers and sisters. A marvelous example for us all, hah."

"But you're not perfect, then. And neither is Ole Bull."

"No. Ole Bull still loves Zwill, and is a very good mayor for them. Officially, of course, he would burn the town to the ground if Solomon ordered it, but you'll find many of us like Ole Bull who's ties to the past are, shall we say, imperfectly cut."

"Would he really burn Zwill if told to?" Maduin shuddered, and remembered Ole Bull's oft-repeated excuse for his actions - _We do what we must_.

"I do not know. But that is the official stance, anyways. Let's just hope it never comes to that. Even the Stradivari have their weaknesses, the pieces of themselves they leave behind."

"And you? What is your weakness?" Maduin did not think the old woman would answer. It was an impertinent question, but a natural one, and Maduin asked it without really expecting a response.

"This is my weakness." Delphino stood up and took another object out of her coat. It was several times larger than the coin, and glistened in the dim light brightly.

"What is that? A scale?" Maduin looked at the shiny, flat disc. It did look like the scale of some giant fish, blue and round and sharp as a razor around its jagged edges. The size was ridiculous, however, and Maduin knew of no fish that could possess such a large scale.

"It is a scale from the twice-blasted hide of Leviathan." Delphino rapped the scale against her desk and it rang out like a piece of metal. "Harder than mythril, but I pierced it all the same, didn't I? Heh, that old goat never knew what hit him. Diamond-tipped harpoons, retro-fitted the night before the attack just for him. Harder than mythril, but not harder than diamond."

Maduin found himself awestruck by the scale now. A piece of Leviathan? An actual piece of an Esper? What kind of magic would something like that possess? Not as much as magicite surely, but strange and wondrous all the same. And dangerous...

"How many more of those are there? How on earth did you get it?"

"There were a few dozen stuck to the flesh on my harpoons. I've gathered all the ones I could find, and have them all right here in my cabin, save one I gave to Servais to take to Greffuhle next time he sees her."

Maduin smirked. Of course Servais wouldn't pass up the opportunity to experiment with a strange new monster's hide. "He didn't try to eat it did he?"

Delphino smirked too, well aware of Servais's fanatical hunter's spirit. "No, I wouldn't let him, although I'm willing to bet he's tried since he left. Probably will break a few teeth on it. Also, watch this."

Delphino carelessly dropped the scale into a fireplace behind her. Maduin reached out to stop her, thinking she had accidentally dropped it. But he should have known those puppeteer's fingers would never drop something so precious.

"Ah..." Maduin breathed in softly, expecting some huge explosion of magical energy, or a summoning of Leviathan's vile form. Instead, as soon as the scale hit the flickering flames, they were snuffed out in a cloud of ash. The scale had put the fire out faster than a blast of ice from Maduin's fingertips could have. Impressive magic still remained in the scale, it would seem.

Delphino reach into the black soot and pulled the scale back out. It was unscathed by the fire, and untouched by the ash as well. It glittered as moistly as it had when Delphino first revealed it. She tossed it into a drawer in her desk quickly, as if the touch of it offended her.

"An interesting property. Imagine a fireproof shield or armor made of Leviathan scales, hm?" Delphino's eyes bored into Maduin, challenging him.

"You earned that treasure, I won't argue with how you use it. But I don't agree with Espers being used for weapons, living or dead. If you think I'll give you anything off my own body, you'll have to get it the same way you got that."

"Of course, forget I even showed you this. I just found it curious the many ways Esper magic might be used by humans. Zwill has received a great gift from this battle, and I suspect Ole Bull will use that gift to every advantage he can. We acquired more than just scales from the seas last night, Esper."

He did not like the way she said Esper. "This is what you wanted to talk to me about, isn't it?"

"Yes. The scale was a war trophy, nothing more. This was the real prize." Delphino reached once again into her seemingly endless coat and pulled out an object wrapped in cloth. But the cloth was not enough to hide the obvious truth, pulsing and glowing with a harsh golden light from within the covering.

"That's...magicite!" Maduin reached out instinctively, but Delphino pulled back. "How? Who?"

"It's Ixion's remains. I saw it glowing beneath the waves where Leviathan had been." Delphino unwrapped the stone, and its gold light filled the room. "I fished it out without a word to anyone. I don't think any of my crew saw it."

"I can't let you have that." Maduin's voice was almost a growl. He had seen what Ole Bull had done with Titan's magicite, and what Leviathan himself had done with Ixion. The scales were a minor issue, but this was the living remains of one of his fellow Espers. If he didn't take a stand now against the abuse of his kind, it would only get worse. This was his first act as ambassador of his race, and he would not turn a blind eye, even to a former enemy such as Ixion.

Delphino looked into Maduin's eyes and saw his determination. She nodded. "I agree. It's yours."

"Wha?" That was a surprise. He had expected to have to pry it from her by force, after watching the way Ole Bull had fawned over Titan's magicite, and eventually obtained it. But that was Titan's affair, and Maduin would not interfere in that mess, however much he disagreed with Titan's decision.

"I said I agree. It's too dangerous. And...I don't want it. I don't want anything to do with your kind, or magic, or _him._"

Maduin had never seen Delphino show much emotion, but there was no doubt she was holding back something fierce when she spoke of the magicite. What was really going on here?

"Remember what I said about my weakness?" Delphino's eyes were on the magicite, wide and hollow. She was no longer in the present. "I think it's time you learned about the past of at least one Stradivari, Dune Karn, son of Silas Karn."

Maduin watched the old woman grow older before his eyes, withering into a shell of herself as she forced old memories back to the surface. He waited for her to speak again, and when she did, he heard a sadly familiar tale.

"You're inner archeologist may find this interesting. The year 1900, by the Phoenician calendar, saw the highest recorded number of new Stradivari members in our history. That year was an unprecedented year of strife, blood, and tears. It was the bloodiest year in the civil war between East and West Jidorik, and saw the destruction of entire villages and families on both sides. It was the year of the worst horde invasion from Zozo since Old Zwill left the mountains. 1900 saw the death of Doma's most powerful shogun, Genji, at the hands of an unknown rival, and the subsequent shattering of the fragile alliance of the Doman feudal states. Even Cremona saw its fair share of dissent , and as many Stradivari died that year as were initiated while trying to quell the rebellion against Emperor Roezerbe.

"It was also a year of unparalleled storms, earthquakes, floods, famine, and all manner of strange and unexplained natural occurrences. The blood moon of 1900 was the reddest on record, and some people swear they saw the face of a demon on the second moon, Janus, during the blood moon. I saw it too, blasted across its face like a massive, purple bruise. It smiled, grimaced, then vanished. But it was there for a few minutes, as if ready to swallow the world. I was just a young girl without a care in the world during that blood moon, and had bigger things to worry about than a man in the moon. In a few months, that would all change, however.

"I am from an island known as Bariki. You may have heard of it, although I suspect many other people have not." Delphino paused and looked at Maduin, seeking the man he once was inside the fearsome form he now wore.

"I have. It no longer exists."

"Yes, Jonah Levi saw to that." Delphino blinked and cleared her throat, continuing her story. Maduin suspected where it was going now.

"I was a devout member of the Order of the Pearl back then. Young, bright-eyed, and in love. Mobius was a different man before Bariki. I don't think I will ever know the full truth of what happened to my home while I was studying to become a first-level priestess of the Order in Narsille, but I know what I found when I returned. Ashes. Nothing but ashes.

"I was so happy to finally earn my white robes that I almost did not notice Mobius when he returned to Narsille that night. His face was haggard and disfigured, and he was missing a leg and an eye. It was the most horrible sight I had even seen in my short life. I have seen many more gruesome things since then, but back then, that was the worst. The love of my life, wounded and so miserable he would not even speak to me. He never did speak to me again, and vanished from my life the next morning, to begin his love affair with the sea.

"He never told me what happened to him or where he had been. I found out through others in the Order where he had been and what had supposedly happened there. Mobius knew nothing of where I was from, could not have realized he was looking at the last survivor of Bariki when he looked at me with that gaping red scar of an eye. And yet, even now, thirty years later, I still hate him for not telling me what happened to my home, for not stopping Levi, for not doing more.

"He did everything he could have. I know the story of Bariki as well, Professor Indie told me the whole thing." Maduin wonder just how much Delphino had learned from the Order about the disaster of Bariki and the Phoenix Isle.

Delphino stopped and looked at Maduin in a different light. "Did he? Yes, he would have. This tale is not mine alone. Many people lost their lives that day, didn't they?"

"I lost my father."

Delphino nodded. "As did I, and everyone else I ever cared about. I didn't know it at the time, but when I saw Mobius that night, I was looking at the last remnant of my former life, walking away forever. Later, when I am finished, you must tell me everything Professor Indra told you. I would very much appreciate it."

Maduin nodded, and gestured for her to continue.

"As soon as I learned what happened, I took the _Mother of Pearl_ straight home. When I arrived, the entire village had been burnt to the ground. Twice. Once, crudely, by the hands of Jonah Levi, and then the wreckage was burnt to a fine ash by the hand of something else. The destruction was so thorough that the earth itself had been scorched to the bedrock, red and bare. The island was nothing but a massive scar, unfit for any life. I have been there several times since, and nothing grows, even today. But the sign of the man who sterilized the island is still there for anyone with eyes to see it.

"After my grief subsided, I found two footprints in the sand by the shore. They had been melted into the earth with such force that the sand had turned to glass, and permanently marked the spot where the man must have stood as he laid waste to an already dead world. I do not know who or what that man was. All I have are his footprints, and the world of ash he left behind. I do not think he was human. The footprints are that of bare feet, and no normal human could have stood there in that heat."

"Sade." Maduin was certain it had been Sade. Something deep inside him said his guess was the truth. Jehad had been a part of him for a short while, and the scene she had described, it was just like what he had seen as Jehad's spirit poured his last piece of humanity into Sade.

"Elder Sade?" Delphino was dumbstruck for the first time since Maduin had met her. "The man who replaced Elder Zurvan as leader of the Order? That man always disturbed me. His eyes, they burned with the same red haze I saw flickering in Mobius's mangled eye that night he returned. Are you sure?"

"Yes. Sade was once known as Jehad, but he was possessed by Moloch, and I think that thing was what returned from Phoenix Isle and burned Bariki's remains." He could see Sade doing such a thing easily. Reveling in his new power, hating the world and desiring nothing more than to reduce it to cinders.

"Jehad? I once knew a young priest named Jehad. Could it be him...? Yes, he left on a secret mission for the Order around that time and never returned. No one ever even offered an explanation for what happened to him. He was just lost at sea and that was the end of it. He was an orphan, no family, and no questions were asked. Unbelievable. And yet, it makes perfect sense. Who would miss an orphan?

"But that is more than I planned on talking about with you, and something I shall have to think about later. I left my village and everything I knew behind. I sailed around the world, alone, for over a year, trying to find out what had happened. Rumors of Jonah Levi's involvement gradually surfaced, and I made it my life's goal to hunt him down.

"I became very adept at getting information out of people. I learned hypnosis and some of the things I forced out of seemingly good people were truly depraved. I never suspected such filth lay just underneath the surface, even among the Order. They are not what they once were, Maduin. Sade saw to that, I suppose. The things he made my former friends in the Order do in the name of Altimus were despicable. When the black robes started outnumbering the white robes in the Order, I knew it was time to leave. I had nowhere to go, and had lost all faith in humanity. With my powers of hypnosis, I tricked, lied, and stole my way through life for another year, hunting after Levi's cursed ship. I am not proud of the things I did during the two years following Bariki's destruction.

"But, as they always do, the Stradivari came when they sensed the balance in danger. I had finally stooped to killing a man I had put to sleep for information. He had admitted to selling his daughter to Jonah Levi for...private services. It seemed Levi had a taste for young girls. I lost control, and I killed the wretch with this."

Delphino pulled out the golden coin again and removed it from around her neck. She stretched the thin string attached to it and snapped it taut. It was a metal wire. A garrote wire, for strangling people.

"Ole Bull came the next day, and the rest is history. Do you know what this coin is, Maduin?"

Maduin shook his head. It simply looked like a golden coin with the sun on one face and the full moon on the other.

"It is a symbol of the Order of the Pearl, only given to those who show promise for rising in the Order. I was given this upon becoming a second-level priestess, and kept it. The sun on the front represents Altimus, and if you look closely, it is actually a pearl, showering its holy light onto the world. The other side is the second moon, Janus. The moon is named after the Dark Master, the god of death who opposes Altimus. That is the face I swear I saw in the sky, the night my home burned. I cannot explain it, but after recent events, I believe it. Now, more than ever in my life, I believe in the Holy Master, and the Dark Master as well."

Delphino pushed the magicite remains of Ixion on Maduin. "And I believe you need this. You are seeking balance, are you not? You seek the Triad?"

Maduin almost dropped Ixion's magicite at the mention of that word. "How do you know about that?"

"Elia came to me in a dream last night and said to give you this. Since forsaking the Order and living a life dedicated to the sea, I have thought of Elia often, and dreamt of her often enough, as any lover of the wide open ocean always does. I never thought they were anything more than idle dreams before, but now I cannot deny that the Maiden of Water, like her brethren, must truly exist. And I believe the dream I had was really her. Do you agree?"

Maduin had dreamt of Elia before as well, and he believed those dreams were real. Dreams were how the Masters communicated with mortals, it seemed, and it seemed Maduin's patron saint had answered his prayers after all.

"I do. Elia has watched over me time and time again, and I believe she is still watching over me even now, although I have not seen or heard her voice for a long time now." Maduin gripped the magicite and felt its electric pulse flow over him like a static shock. "If she wants me to have this, then I will gladly take it and learn whatever secrets it holds."

_Will you talk to me, Ixion? Or will you remain silent like Titan? I did not kill you, but I am sure you blame me for your death. I have no hatred for you, and I hope that wherever you are, you are free from the Goddess's control now._

Maduin spoke these words in his mind as clearly as he could, hoping that the Esper might hear his thoughts and respond like he had while alive. He waited, but there was nothing. He would keep waiting, then. The poor soul had just died a brutal death, and most likely was still in shock, if it was still hiding somewhere in that cold, but brilliantly glowing, stone. What did Elia want from him? What was the Triad? What did this stone have to do with finding balance?

"I do not know what her words meant." Delphino said, as if she were reading Maduin's thoughts. "I do not know what the Triad is any more now than when you asked Ole Bull after that unpleasant episode in training. The gods work in mysterious ways, and I suspect you will find out when the time is right. For now, take the magicite, and take this as well."

Delphino took her coin and pulled it off the metal wire. "Give this to the young master of Manse von Muir, in the heart of South Jidorik."

"What? I can't take this from you."

"Yes you can. It's time I got rid of it. I cannot hold onto the past anymore. Lady Fey is right, that we must not let our emotions control us, although I fear she may need to take her own advice very soon. We Stradivari are a messed up bunch, Maduin. Never forget that."

She placed the coin in Maduin's hand, and forced his taloned fingers to close around it. "And don't forget we are human, as well. Even Fey, though she tries harder than any of us not to be. I fear what she may find in Jidorik."

Maduin nearly knocked his head against the ceiling. "What! Is she going south as well?"

"Hah, yes. She seeks Lord Dunn-Raven, and reports of his appearance in the Jidorik region are growing. Though what she may find when she meets him, I do not know. You said he was no longer human, correct?"

"I do not know for sure, but I believe he is an Esper under the thrall of Leviathan and the Goddess now. A ghost-like thing barely human."

"Look out for her, Maduin. I have given you much here today. The least you could do is return the favor and watch after the poor girl. I remember how I had reacted upon learning Mobius was a different man, and a ghost of his former self. To find the man you love, only to find him an actual ghost of himself...I do not know how she will respond."

Maduin understood how she felt. He still held out hope he could return his own friends to their senses, with the power of the Nacre. But, this was the Lady Blunt she was talking about...

"I will not travel with her. But, I will try and make sure she stays out of trouble when our paths cross in Jidorik, as I'm sure they will. She has a habit of seeking me out. She is a difficult person to deal with, you know."

"Like I said, we're all screwed up here. You'll find that out when you reach Manse von Muir. Plenty of Stradivari down there, and a few are far worse than Fey."

"What is at Manse von Muir? Someone from the Order, I assume?"

"Yes, he is called Marylebone among us, although like Ole Bull he lives a double life as a Stradivari and as Prince Chris von Muir, the last surviving heir of one of the wealthiest families on the continent. I cannot help but believe part of the reason our group reached out to him so soon after his parents' deaths was to gain access to the massive fortune and powerful influences in Jidorik his family has always maintained. But, that's just my own jaded belief.

"More importantly, he is the Axelrod of the South, which means, despite his tender age, he is the leader of our group in that region, and an especially lethal warrior."

"Like Ole Bull is here?" Maduin asked. He wondered what heroic figure would greet him in the south. Ole Bull looked like a barbarian king out of legend and fought like one, and this Marylebone must be just as tough if he led the Stradivari of Jidorik.

Delphino actually giggled at Maduin's remark, but offered no explanation. "Just give him the coin and the Nacre, and tell him you received the coin from me. Manse von Muir has the largest library of ancient texts on this side of the world, and is only second to Doma's. And more than that, Marylebone leads a third secret life as the highest-ranking member of the Order of the Pearl still living, as far as anyone knows."

"What? How is that possible?"

"Because everyone else is dead, you fool," Delphino snapped, more rudely than she intended. "When Narsille fell, most of the leaders of the Order were wiped out. Marylebone's father was once in line to become the next Elder, but with Sade's takeover that all changed. As far away as he was from Narsille, Marylebone was relatively unaffected by Sade's changes to the Order. His father fell out of favor with Sade, however, and his dreams of ruling the Order were ruined. He still had high hopes for his son, however, and was grooming him to become what he could not, right up to his death. I believe he was at the ninth level last I heard, only two away from being eligible for Elder. Marylebone was supposed to have given all that up when he joined the Stradivari, but..."

"Another less than ideal member."

"Yes. During one of my travels south, Marylebone happened to see my coin, and assumed I must also be a member of the Order. He confided in me, and still trusts me to this day with his secret religion. I told you because you needed to know, and I would suggest you not tell any one else." She snapped her garrote wire tight as she finished, placing the empty string back around her own neck. Her eyes were boring into his own. "I could force you not to tell, you know. I could compel you to never speak a word of this to anyone. But I won't, because I trust you."

"I wish I could say the same." Maduin certainly had a better appreciation for the Stradivari, and Captain Delphino now, but did he trust them with his life yet? No. They were still killers. Even this Marylebone must be a killer, prince though he may be.

"I thought as much. No matter. Take the coin and the magicite, and seek the answers they may bring you. I have said what I wanted to say. Now...tell me about your father."

Maduin sat back down and stared quietly out the window, feeling uneasy about talking to a stranger. But she was no longer a stranger, was she? She had bared her soul to him, and he might as well tell her all he knew about the events of thirty years ago.

A half hour later, Maduin had told his tale just as Indie had told it to him on a rainy night in Narsille. As he had recalled those events, he was surprised to see the captain shed more than one tear, as well as look wistfully out her porthole window at the waves.

Delphino thanked him when it was over, then shut herself away like a trap door snapping in place. She had spoken more, and with more feeling, in the past hour than in all the time he had known her combined. It must have been terribly difficult to talk about, and then to listen to, the story of her home after so long, but whatever emotions had been dredged up, they were gone now. She was Captain Delphino of the Stradivari once again.

"Before you go, look out that window there and tell me what you see," Delphino said in her usual raspy, toneless voice. "I think we are being watched."

Maduin looked, but saw nothing. He felt uneasy, though, as if he really were being watched. He strained his eyes, and tried to see what might not be visible with normal human eyes. But...there was nothing. The feeling would not go away, now that Delphino had brought the issue up.

"Nothing? I thought so. You would have noticed the pest by now if he wasn't hiding his magical energy somehow. He's out there though. My bug is getting nervous, and that's only because he senses an intruder. Here, watch."

Delphino tapped her ear and a small bug flew out from behind it, like a tiny black earring. The bug whizzed around her head, then hovered by the porthole before returning to her. It looked very agitated.

"He was here before, as well. When we first met. I don't like being spied on."

Delphino reached under her desk and pulled out an ancient looking pistol with an abnormally large barrel. Without a word, she fired it straight out the window. There was a terrific explosion of glass and gunpowder as the weapon went off, and then a horrible screeching, buzzing noise filled the room. It was a voice, even raspier than Delphino's at her worst, like a giant insect that had just been stepped on.

"Ack, scoundrel! Ack! I will report this!"

And then the voice was gone as suddenly as it had came. Maduin had seen nothing, detected nothing, but that uneasy feeling was gone. Delphino was still sitting in her chair, blowing the smoke off her gun's destroyed barrel.

"That's the first time I've fired that thing in thirty years, hah! It felt good to give that pest a little surprise. Now I see why Servais likes his guns so much. But, I get the feeling that thing was here for you, not me. You are being followed it would seem."

"Yes, and I know who it was." Maduin remembered that unpleasant voice from back in Antissa. Once you heard the voice of Zona, the Seeker of Moloch, you did not easily forget it. "Another Esper, but one that I think will not be as easy to lure into a fight as Ixion was. I'll worry about him when the time comes. For now, I think I should be leaving."

"That would be best, I think. Just remember, we are all human, Maduin. Even the worst of us, and perhaps especially the worst of us."

"I'll try. Thank you."

Delphino waved him off, and went back to admiring her handiwork. She was smiling as she picked up the pieces of broken glass and metal.

Elphis was still asleep at this hour, but soon she would be running through the streets with Kumiro, smelling all the flowers laid out for the dead, then tasting the ashes in the air. She had tasted the ashes of death too often in her life, and Maduin hoped he could find a safe haven for her in Jidorik. He would not leave her here with Ole Bull, to be turned into some kind of summoning weapon. Ole Bull had his magicite, and if Delphino was right, soon would turn Zwill into a place of magic as well as weapons. The man did what he needed to ensure the survival of his people, and it would seem, more and more, that magic was to be the future of this world.

Ole Bull was willing to embrace this new world, Delphino was not. Maduin suspected most people would be equally split about the use of this new force. Sooner or later that would cause problems, Maduin knew, but for today there was only mourning for those who had been lost, and celebration for a decisive victory.

But there was hope, at least. Zwill would be changed forever, as would every town touched by the powers of the gods in this coming war. Zwill had proved anything was possible, and Maduin would take that hope with him to Jidorik. As Maduin walked the streets looking towards the future, he saw Elphis happily dancing with a group of families celebrating the victory.

_Yes, there is always hope. Every time I look at her, I cannot help but believe that._


	113. Havoc's Cry, The Dispossessed Know Wrath

**Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time**

**Book 2: The Goddess War**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Havoc's Cry**

_Love is the most powerful force in the universe. If there is one thing I learned from my time in utter solitude, and one thing that has kept me alive through these frightful times, it is this basic truth of existence. Love will shine forth from even the blackest heart, the most lost soul, or the most jaded cynic. It is the power of humanity itself, and can never be extinguished, no matter how fervently some people may try. I have learned this the hardest way imaginable, as I am sure many others have in the timeless ages of this world._

_Life is a cycle, and it is love that turns it. But love's dark side, the twisted reversal of fortune that accompanies any great loss or misfortune, is just as potent, and must be equally regarded and respected. Hate. The power of love creates and fuels the power of hate, for just as there can be no darkness without a light to define it, there can be no hate that was not first born from an equally powerful love betrayed. What tragedies has this balancing act of emotion caused throughout history? Even the great Collapse that ruined the world was caused by a hatred so deep, so profound, that one can only marvel at the almost unfathomable love that must have given birth to it. _

-From _A Return to Life_, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 5 AF

* * *

**Part 12.1 - The Dispossessed Know Wrath**

They came from the West and the East. They walked, they rode, they ran, they wept. Their wrath was a quiet one, sleeping and waiting for its time and place. War had come again, and the innocent and helpless did the only thing left to them in such cruel times. They fled their homes amidst the harsh flames and even harsher winds of freezing cold. And the dust. Everywhere people trod, dust rose up in great gusts of despair, the eternal sign of the dispossessed.

But where did they go? Where could they go? The North was full of savages. The Horde of Zozo, stronger now than in even the oldest traveler's memories, hunted down and captured, or killed, all who crossed their paths. The East was burning under the wrathful flames of the Tyrant Wyrm's army. The West was freezing under that same inhuman force. The only salvation lay in the South, the affluent realm of the von Muirs. So it was that Manse von Muir saw the second greatest influx of human bodies the world had ever known. Hundreds of thousands of Jidorikans left their homes, their land, and their livelihoods for the hope of sanctuary in the verdant fields of the southern peninsula.

Manse von Muir. For nearly three centuries, the massive palatial manor had been home to a family rich even by the opulent standards of the Western nobility. So wealthy, in fact, that their estate was basically a country in its own right, and did not need to concern itself with the affairs of the northern nations. Wars raged on between East and West throughout the years, and the von Muirs cared not one gil for what happened beyond the southern border of the Medina. They were far too elite to bother with the riff-raff of the northern barbarians. For to them, all Jidorikans north of the Medina were lowborn riff-raff; the "people of dust" as Apollo von Muir, the great-grandfather of the current Prince had famously said, and later regretted.

Prince Chris von Muir was not like his great-grandfather, however. He knew the history of his people and his family, and knew something Apollo did not. The Order records were open to him, as a ninth-level acolyte, and he knew that the founder of the von Muir family fortune was a man who went by the name of Duster. Two hundred and eighty years ago, this man arrived, penniless and homeless, on the quiet shores where the Medina meets the great western ocean. With no past and no name, he trod the dust and encountered a kind and generous people. These were the Jidorikans who dwelt in the grey area between East and West, living off the lush bounty that the Medina River afforded them. They took this man, who could think of no better name than Duster to call himself, and treated him like family. And he soon grew to regard them as family as well.

Twenty years later, Duster had married the beautiful daughter of his saviors, Gilberta, and the von Muir family line was established. The only keepsake Duster had of his former life, which he either did not remember or refused to speak of, was a harp. A harp who's exquisite sound, unmatched craftsmanship, and ornate encrusting of jewels, gold, mythril, and countless other gems with no name, entranced all who saw or heard it. Through the power of this seemingly magical harp, Duster wooed his princess Gilberta, and later, all the people of the Medina. In time, he became a rich man, beloved by all and the unspoken leader of this tribe of Jidorikans that called themselves neither Easterner nor Westerner. The harp remained in the family line as a priceless heirloom, and still sits on the mantle behind the head of the table in the great hall of Manse von Muir, hypnotizing all who set their gaze on its supernatural beauty, untarnished through the centuries.

Before there was a Manse, though, there was a town, and before that, a people with no name, no nation to call their own. And so these people of no nation eventually moved south along a dusty road through the meandering peninsula that made up the land south of Jidorik, calling themselves the "people of Duster." Their settlement at the end of this long road was named after their benefactor and local legend, Duster, now long dead. The village of Duster grew, as did Duster's line, which had taken Gilberta's family name of von Muir and built an empire of free trade among all nations of that time. Gil became the new currency of anyone who mattered, and soon would become the currency of the world.

Time has a way of making people forget, as does power, and money. One hundred years after Duster had washed up on the Jidorik shores, his own people had forgotten their roots, and regarded themselves as better than the northern stock. No longer were northerners welcome in the halls of Manse von Muir, which had gradually been built around the entire town of Duster to keep foreigners out. This hamlet-sized building, more like a fortress than a house, was the pride of the von Muirs, precisely because it symbolized their separation from the rest of the world. There was no dust to be found on the carefully manicured lawns and immaculate cobblestone walkways inside Manse von Muir. If you were not a von Muir, you were nobody.

Apollo von Muir personified the height of the corruption, greed, and decadence that had befallen the once kind, generous name of von Muir. And he paid the price all princes who forget their people must pay. No amount of gil saved Apollo from the riots that followed the great civil war between East and West. The von Muirs had ignored the "people of dust" for too long, and when total war broke out in Jidorik for the first time, the Manse was caught unprepared for the smoldering wrath that came with a people forced to eat the very dust beneath their feet. War came to Jidorik, and Apollo ignored all the signs that surely would have been obvious to Duster and Gilberta.

The people came. First a few wary individuals, then clusters of panicked families, and then finally thousands of people, entire towns fleeing the horrors of war. And Apollo ignored them. The gates of Manse von Muir were shut, the strings of Apollo's famous family harp silent and slack.

And then the people of dust finally rose up and choked Apollo. The people knew the power of their wrath now, and with it, toppled the gates of Manse von Muir, drowning Apollo in his own fountain and washing away generations of sin. Manse von Muir became a home for wayward souls afterwards, with Gilbert II, Apollo's son, leaving the smashed gates the way the people had left them, open to all who sought comfort. Gilbert's daughter, Selene, followed her father's example, even marrying a high-ranking member of the Order of the Pearl and becoming a member of the peace-loving Order herself.

And Chris von Muir had not forgotten the sins of his forefathers, and would never forget the lessons of his generous mother and kind father. He was the last surviving von Muir, and would do justice to his family name, and the memory of the people of Duster. For he knew we are all people of the dust, and that the anger of those who have no power is the deepest anger of all. As he sat on the north balcony of his luxurious manor and looked at the sea of people arriving from the north, wave after wave in an endless parade of begrimed bodies, he felt the dust on him, and knew what he had to do. The family harp was in his hands, ready and waiting.

The gates were open, the beds and tents ready, warm meals cooking in a hundred ovens. The people of Duster were coming again, and this time, his harp would sing for all the world to hear. With carefully trained fingers, he played, and the ancient melody sang from the strings. It was a song of welcome, of family, friendship, and brotherhood. All who heard the song knew they would find shelter if they just followed the music. They did not know why they felt this way, only that it was the truth. The harp had the power to sing the song of one's heart, and the Prince's heart cried out for the people he loved to come to him and be safe from the madness of the north.

_I am ready mother, father. Let them come. Let them all come to us. The Prince will shelter the powerless, and the Stradivari will smite those who think themselves powerful. Altimus, guide me in this great venture, for it is the gods themselves I must fight now. I trust in your love, and know you will not lead me astray._

The Nacre glinted from the desk behind him, the first rays of morning playing off the different-sized pearls in a multitude of colors. The rainbow vibrated in harmony with the vibrating strings of the harp, an ethereal interplay of light and sound. There was a great power here, the Prince knew, and it was the greatest power in the universe.


End file.
